Surviving the Storm
by 27dayz
Summary: When Ecklie chooses Grissom's team to go to a convention in London, the nightshift CSIs are obviously excited. Then their plane crashes into the Atlantic. Now the CSIs are stranded on a desert island where their only way home is to survive...
1. The Trip Of a Life Time

Author's note: I'm back with a vengence. This is my first CSI fic. This first chapter is a bit short, but next chapter will hopefully be longer. No ships as of yet.

Spoilers: I will generally tell what spoilers the chapters contain. In this Chapter: '4 x 4'

Summary: When Ecklie chooses Grissom's team to head to a conference in London, the Las Vegas CSI nightshift couldn't be more excited. Then their plane crashes in the sea. Now Grissom, Catherine, Nick, Warrick, Sara, and Greg are stranded on a deserted island and their only way home is to survive.

Disclaimer: I don't own CSI.

Surviving the Storm

Chapter One: The Trip Of a Lifetime 

"Grissom! I want to see you in my office, now," Conrad Ecklie barked, sticking his balding head into the doorway of the CSI break room.

"Coming, Conrad," Grissom said, inwardly groaning. He got up to follow the Assistant Director of the Las Vegas Crime Lab. How Conrad Ecklie came to be in such a powerful position, Grissom would never know.

"What'd you do now, Gris?" Warrick Brown asked his supervisor, a smirk playing on his dark skin.

"You remembered to submit our evaluations, right?" Catherine Willows asked, narrowing her eyes at him.

"You know I did, Cath," Grissom sighed, heading out the door towards Ecklie's office, the very last place he wanted to be. He and Ecklie never got along, especially when Ecklie was working dayshift. Catherine had once very accurately described them as 'oil and water'.

"Gil, sit down," Ecklie ordered, shuffling a few papers on his desk.

"What can I do for you, Ecklie?" Grissom asked, sitting in one of the two chairs facing the desk.

"You do know that there is a worldwide CSI convention in London next week, right?" Ecklie asked. Grissom nodded, remembering some sort of memo like that.

"And that pertains to me how?" he asked.

"I have chosen your team to go to the convention to give Las Vegas adequate representation. You, Warrick Brown, Catherine Willows, Nick Stokes, Sara Sidle, and Greg Sanders will be leaving for London in five days," Ecklie explained to a very astounded Grissom, "This convention is an opportunity impress upon the world the success of the Las Vegas Criminalistics Bureau. This means that your team had better be on their best, most respectful behaviour. Our lab's reputation is on the line…" On that note, Grissom was dragged into listening to a 'for the good of the lab' speech. About fifteen minutes later, Ecklie handed him six tickets and sent him on his way.

He made his way to the break room, where his shift was waiting for their assignments.

"What did Ecklie want?" Catherine questioned as he walked in.

"Apparently he chose our team to go to the worldwide CSI convention in London. We leave in five days," he explained. Five shocked faces stared back at him.

"England?" Greg Sanders asked incredulously.

"England," Grissom confirmed.

"You're kidding!" Sara Sidle exclaimed.

"Do I kid?" Grissom asked rhetorically.

"In five days?" Catherine asked.

"That's what I said," he answered.

"He expects us to get up and leave in five days?" Catherine asked, a little bit annoyed. What was she going to do with her daughter?

"Yeah, basically," Grissom answered, getting a little annoyed with tedious questions.

"What are you mad about Cath? London, England!" Nick Stokes exclaimed, excitement written all over his face.

"What am I going to do with Lindsey for a week?" she directed the question at her boss.

"Why don't you buy her a ticket? I'm sure it'd be alright," Grissom said, shrugging slightly. He would never admit it to anybody, but he would kind of like it if Lindsey came with them. He hadn't seen Catherine's daughter in ages and the two of them always got along pretty good.

"It's exam week. If she doesn't write her exams, she'll fail the courses," Catherine sighed. She too would've loved to bring her daughter along. Working nights, Catherine hardly ever got to see Lindsey. It was still better then her former Swing shift position, but not that much.

"Can't she retake them?" Warrick asked, also thinking a bit more notice would've been nice.

"You have no idea how strict that school's policies are," Catherine groaned.

"I do," Nick piped in, remembering just how hard it had been to get a school roster from Butterfield academy for a case a while back.

"I guess she can stay with my sister," Catherine mumbled, a little put out. At this point Grissom cleared his throat.

"Okay, enough chit-chat, we have people to put in jail. Cath, you and Sara have a B and E out in Henderson. Warrick, you and Greg have a 419 at the Sphere. Nick, you and I have a DB at the Rampart. Let's get to work, people," Grissom commanded, handing each a slip of paper containing the details on their cases.

Five days later, the nightshift CSIs boarded their plane to London, much to Greg's excitement.

"I always knew there were perks to being out in the field," he said, grinning as he did his seatbelt.

"Remember, best behaviour, Greg. Otherwise Ecklie is on my ass," Grissom warned from the seat behind.

"Yeah, then he'll demote your ass back to the lab," Warrick joked from the seat across.

"Will not!" Greg responded childishly. From the seat ahead Nick snickered, while Sara just shook her head.

"This is going to be a long trip," Catherine sighed beside Grissom, opening her book.

TBC


	2. The Worst Case Senario

Author's note: this chapter is a bit longer and it really starts things off. Hope you enjoy. Still no coupling as of yet.

Spoilers: I will generally tell what spoilers the chapters contain. In this Chapter: season 6, slight 'Fight Night' spoilers

Summary: When Ecklie chooses Grissom's team to head to a conference in London, the Las Vegas CSI nightshift couldn't be more excited. Then their plane crashes in the sea. Now Grissom, Catherine, Nick, Warrick, Sara, and Greg are stranded on a deserted island and their only way home is to survive.

Disclaimer: I don't own CSI. Also in this chapter there is mention of a book called 'what to do in the worst case senario' it is an actaul book and i dont own it either.

Surviving the Storm

Chapter Two: The Worst Case Senario

"Nick, what on earth are you reading?" Sara asked the man next to her. Nick looked up at her with a confused look on his face. He then showed her the cover.

"_What to do in the worst case scenario_?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"It's actually really interesting. It tells you what to do in emergencies. Like this one," he explained, leaning over to show her the page he was on, "It tells you how to deliver a baby in a taxi. And this one," he flipped the page, "tells you what to do if you're abducted by aliens." Sara snorted.

"If I ever have to deliver an alien child in a taxi, I'll read it," she said sarcastically.

"Yeah, well, when you're getting probed, I'll be on earth with my feet on solid ground," Nick retorted, turning back to his book. The Texan smile on his face gave him away, however. Sara turned back to her own book; a mystery.

"Who's getting probed?" Warrick asked, an eyebrow rose.

"Nobody," Sara answered.

"Sara," Nick also answered. Warrick shook his head and turned back to the in-flight movie.

"Were they just talking about getting probed?" Catherine asked without looking up from her book.

"I stopped following that conversation a while ago," Grissom replied, filling in a blank in his crossword puzzle.

"Smart idea," she said, taking a sip from her Diet Coke, "Why is Greg so quiet?"

"Mp3 player," Grissom answered. Sure enough their spiky-haired colleague's head was bobbing up and down. Just then the pilot's voice sounded over the communication system.

"Folks we are about to experience some turbulence, but there is nothing to worry about. The seatbelt sign has been turned on, so I ask that everybody return to their seats and buckle up their seatbelts. Thank you."

"Greg…Greg!" Catherine hissed, before tapping his shoulder.

"What?" he asked, removing his headphones.

"Seatbelt," she said, pointing up at the little light. He nodded and put the belt on. It was a good thing he did, for at that moment, the plane bucked, hitting the first bout of turbulence. Then it hit another, bucking more violently. Grissom went rigid.

"Cold!" he said though clenched teeth. Catherine's drink had spilt on him.

"Sorry, Gil," she apologized, trying to hide the laughter in her voice. He mock-glared at her. The plane bucked more violently still.

"This is the most violent turbulence I've ever experienced," Sara complained through gritted teeth. The plane bucked again.

"Folks, we're just going through a slight tropical storm. Things should clear up within the hour. There is nothing to worry about," the pilot announced.

"Slight? This is slight?" Warrick asked, bracing himself as the plane rocked again.

"Are you okay, Nick? You look a little green," Sara asked. Nick was sitting beside her, gripping the seat, eyes closed.

"Sure," Nick answered in a small voice. The plane bucked more violently still.

"This sucks!" Greg exclaimed.

"Thanks for that one, Greggo," Warrick responded, just as the plane bucked its worst yet.

Meanwhile in the cockpit…

"This storm isn't letting up!" the co-pilot shouted to his partner.

"It will!" the pilot responded as the plane was hit again. Rain pounded on the windows and neither pilot nor co-pilot knew how this storm was affecting their flight.

"Arrghh!" Grissom groaned as the plane was hit harder still.

"This has to let up soon!" Catherine exclaimed, gripping the seat hard.

"Since when are you an optimist?" Warrick called over.

"Since I'm 6000 feet in the air!" she replied. The plane bucked again.

"Captain, we're losing altitude!" the co-pilot shouted over the din of the storm.

"That can't be!" the pilot cried, looking over the instruments. He saw it was true.

"This is flight 412 to control! Mayday! Mayday! Control, do you copy?" the co-pilot shouted into the radio. All he received was static.

"I'm gonna be sick!" Nick cried, grabbing a bag and retching into it.

"Just when I thought this couldn't get any worse!" Sara shouted, grabbing her own bag.

"Oh, God, I'm gonna die!" Greg cried as the plane hit more turbulence.

"No you're not. It's just a storm!" Grissom shouted as numerous other passengers screamed.

"We're going down!" the co-pilot cried out. The captain got on the communication system.

"Folks, I'm afraid we are losing altitude. If you will just remain calm and stay in your seats, we should be able to find a place to land."

Catherine's eyes widened.

"Losing Altitude! Oh, God, I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die!" she exclaimed, shutting her eyes and repeating this mantra.

"Cath?" Gil called over to her.

"Yes?"

"Shut up!" More turbulence hit, and Grissom could definitely feel they were falling at an angle.

"There's no place to land, Captain! We're over the Atlantic!" the co-pilot shouted.

"Well, we can't go nose-first into the water!" the pilot responded, enabling the landing gear.

They hit the water. For a moment it felt like they were on solid ground, then the waves started.

"Oh, my god, I think we hit something!" Sara exclaimed.

"Is every one okay?" Warrick asked, turning to look at his shaken colleagues.

"What's happening?" Greg shouted, frantically looking out the window.

"I don't know!" Grissom called. That's what scared the CSIs the most. They had always felt their supervisor knew everything, now he was just as clueless as the rest of them.

"Everyone remain calm!" The pilot was now amongst the passengers, joined by the co-pilot and stewardesses, "We have been forced to land in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, however, we have enough life rafts for everyone on board. If we stay on the plane, we will sink to the bottom of the ocean. Six people to a raft please. Again, don't panic. We have enough rafts."

"We're in the middle of the ocean," Catherine breathed, paling.

"It's going to be okay, Cath. Its ok," Grissom said, gently rubbing her shoulder.

"We are going to die," Sara whispered, tears streaming down her face.

"No we aren't. We'll be fine," Grissom said firmly. He didn't want to think about it. He just wanted to focus on getting the job done and getting out of there.

"What he said," Warrick nodded in agreement. The pilot made his way over to them.

"The six of you?" he asked. Grissom stood up.

"Yes. I'll take it," he answered, taking the inflatable yellow life raft.

"Take it to the doors. You will be shown what to do," the pilot explained.

"Thank you," Grissom said, nodding curtly, "Come on, guys. Hurry up." He watched as his team dragged themselves to their feet. Greg silently got to his feet, but Grissom noticed he was shaking. Warrick waited as Nick and Sara got up and passed him, Sara, crying and clutching Nick's arm. Grissom himself helped Catherine to her feet. She was scared beyond tears. Her hand shook in his as he led them to the door.

The co-pilot opened it. It seemed almost surreal.

The sea was churning and the sky was a deep purple. Yellow boats bobbed up and down, their occupants clutching each other, realizing the end was near. Grissom swallowed hard.

"Life Jackets," the co-pilot said, sounding as if he was trying not to cry. He trusts yellow jackets to each of them before inflating their raft.

"Thank you," Grissom got out. He realized his own legs were shaking. He put the boat in the water and held it steady as Nick, Warrick, Greg, and he got in. It took them a moment to regain their balance, but when they did, they helped Sara and Catherine in as well. How they did it, they will never know, but soon, they were paddling against the ocean, away from the plane.

"Everyone doing okay?" Nick asked, looking from face to face.

"As well as can be expected, Nick," Grissom answered, worry etched on his face. Nobody liked their position, but in a few moments time, they realized they were some of the lucky ones. The ones that escaped the plane.

They watched in horror as a huge wave hit the plane, flipping it over. Sara and Catherine screamed, while the awful visions of what could have been, played in each man's head.

"Oh my God," Greg said softly, realizing that there were still people on board. Now they were lost at sea. He slumped back, his back hitting the side of the boat.

"The waves are getting rougher. If they could flip that plane…" Warrick trailed off. They were doomed. He would never see his wife again. Never hold her; never tell her that he loved her. He wasn't the only one thinking about family. For the next few hours, as the waves rocked them, they thought of home. Nobody spoke a word.

It happened in an instant. One second they were fine, but the next, they were all in the air, falling into the churning waters of the ocean. It did not take long for the CSIs' heads to break the water.

"Is everyone ok? Nick? Warrick? Sara? Catherine? Greg?" Gil spluttered. He could not see them. He panicked, "CATH! WARRICK! NICK! SARA! GREG!" he heard coughing.

"O-over here, Grissom!" Nick shouted, willing his arms and legs to swim towards his boss. The water was so cold!

"Are you alright?" Grissom asked, grabbing hold of Nick's life-jacket.

"Y-yeah. Where are the others?" Nick chattered.

"Grissom! Nick!" Sara called, dog paddling over to them.

"Sara! A-are you alright?" Grissom chattered. They couldn't stay in this water much longer. They would die of hypothermia. She nodded.

"GUYS! NICK? SARA? GRISSOM?" they heard Warrick's voice echo.

"Over here!" Nick called. To everyone's immense relief, a few moments later, they saw three figures kicking towards them.

"Are you g-guys okay?" Sara called as they reached each other.

"It's c-cold!" Catherine replied, grabbing onto Sara's life-jacket. Greg chattered beside her while Warrick grabbed onto Nick's jacket.

"We can't stay in here much longer. D-did you guys see the r-raft?" Grissom asked.

"It's over that w-way! It's floating u-upside down!" Greg said. Grissom nodded.

"Let's get t-to it!" he ordered. The six of them splashed towards the capsized raft.

"We need to flip it over!" he called. It seemed that they all knew what they needed to do. All six of them climbed onto the bottom, applying weight to one side, so the raft flipped over.

"How're we g-gonna get up there?" Warrick asked. From the water, the feat seemed almost impossible.

"Warrick, you and Nick swim to that other side and h-hold it steady. Greg, hold this s-side with me!" he called. They did as they were told.

"Hold it really steady, g-guys!" he shouted over.

"We g-got it!" Nick called back.

"Okay! Sara, Catherine, you two climb up. We've got it!" Grissom ordered. Catherine and Sara latched onto the side, struggling to pull themselves up. After what seemed like an eternity, they fell into the inside of the boat, exhausted.

"Good job, ladies. Now pull Nick and Warrick up there!" Grissom shouted.

"If w-we get outta this a-alive, I'll kill him," Catherine whispered, dangerously.

"I'll help hide the b-body," Sara agreed. They crawled over to Nick and Warrick's side. They each grabbed one of Nick's arms and heaved him up into the boat. Then they got Nick's help to get Warrick up.

"Cath, Sara, you guys stay on that side while we pull them up," Nick said. He and Warrick pulled Greg up first, then Grissom.

"Great job, guys," Grissom panted.

"Yeah, you might wanna c-cut back on the doughnuts," Warrick deadpanned. That got a little smile out of everyone. They huddled together for warmth, though they all still shivered like crazy. The waves were finally calming and there was even a part in the clouds.

"The boats," Sara murmered softly.

"What?" Greg asked, turning to stare at her.

"The boats. They're gone," she said. Everyone looked and saw she was right. There were no more little yellow boats. No more people huddled in small groups. They couldn't even see the plane anymore. All they could see for miles was more ocean. For what felt like hours, they floated, all of them huddled together.

"I spy with my little eye something that is green," Greg said, finally breaking the silence.

"Nick's face?" Sara asked. Greg shook his head.

"The water?" Warrick asked.

"Nope," Greg answered, happy he had something else to think about.

"That piece of seaweed floating on top of the water?" Grissom asked. Everyone stared at him. None of them were even sure he knew how to play 'I Spy'.

"Yeah. Your turn, Gris," Greg responded.

"I spy with my little eye something that is white."

"The strap on the side of the boat?" Sara asked. He shook his head.

"Greg's shoelaces?" Warrick guessed.

"No. Try again," Grissom replied.

"That seagull?" Nick asked, receiving a negative answer.

"Catherine's shirt?" Greg asked. This put him on the receiving end of Grissom's and Catherine's glares.

"The clouds?" Catherine guessed.

"Yeah, you got it," he said, pointing towards the sky. Seagulls flew across his view. Nick started.

"Seagulls live near land! They don't go out to sea!" he shouted, turning to look around. And then he saw it. A sandy beach, huge rocks gouging out of the water, and what looked like a tropical forest not too far from the beach. Warrick laughed in relief.

"Yeah! Thank you, Discovery Channel!" he exclaimed, a huge smile on his face. Nick rolled his eyes.

"Let's go!" Grissom said, a smile evident on his face. He put his hand in the water and started paddling towards land.

"Aye Aye, Captain!" the rest of them exclaimed triumphantly, joining him.

TBC


	3. Proving Everyone Wrong

Author's note: This chapter is very short, but it does what I wanted it to do. Enjoy. Something longer is coming next time, I promise. Still no coupling as of yet.

Spoilers: I will generally tell what spoilers the chapters contain. In this Chapter: season 6, slight 'Inside the Box',

Summary: When Ecklie chooses Grissom's team to head to a conference in London, the Las Vegas CSI nightshift couldn't be more excited. Then their plane crashes in the sea. Now Grissom, Catherine, Nick, Warrick, Sara, and Greg are stranded on a deserted island and their only way home is to survive.

Disclaimer: I don't own CSI. .

Surviving the Storm

Chapter Three: Proving Everyone Wrong

"This meeting had better be important. With Grissom's team on vacation, we're falling behind," the gruff voice of Captain James Brass mumbled. He and every other person at the police station, morgue, and crime lab were assembled in one mass of people, standing in front of the crime lab. Finally Conrad Ecklie spoke.

"Firstly I would like to thank you all for assembling here on such short notice," Ecklie started. He was joined by the new sheriff and several other very important people.

"Get to the bloody point, man," Brass mumbled under his breath.

"I have some grave news to report to you all and it will affect each and every one of you in one way or another," Ecklie resumed and even Brass had to admit that Ecklie was looking even more miserable then usual, "Flight 412, Las Vegas to London crashed into the Atlantic a few hours ago. Our nightshift CSIs: Gil Grissom, Catherine Willows, Sara Sidle, Warrick Brown, Nicholas Stokes, and Greg Sanders were on that flight. Officials say that there were no survivors," Ecklie broke off.

Brass stood stock-still. He could see several others were just as affected by this news as he was. All on nightshift. He moved towards Ecklie, and he wasn't the only one. Dr. Al Robbins and David Phillips, along with several other detectives had started to ask Ecklie questions.

"Have their families been informed?" Brass asked, thinking of Warrick's new wife and Catherine's little girl.

"Not yet, Captain Brass," Ecklie answered, shaking his head sadly.

"I want to be there when you tell them," Brass said stubbornly.

"Of course Captain. You knew them best," the sheriff agreed. Damn right, he knew them best. He worked side by side with them for the past six years, longer for Nick and Warrick, and longer still with Catherine and Gil.

"I want to be there too," Robbins spoke up. Brass nodded, knowing that the coroner was good friends with each CSI. The pair of them followed Ecklie into the lab, where they called Nick's parents in Texas and Grissom's mother in California. All of them were flying out to Vegas. Then they went to visit the local families of the rest of the CSIs.

Brass knocked on the door of a white condo. A pretty black woman answered.

"Mrs. Brown?" Ecklie asked.

"Yes," she answered, perplexed.

"My name is Conrad Ecklie and this is Jim Brass and Albert Robbins. May we come in?" Ecklie asked. She invited them inside, where they sat down in the Brown living room and told Tina Brown of her husband's plane accident. Brass could see the denial in her eyes, but soon she was overcome by tears. They stayed with her for about an hour, before they offered to drive her to Warrick's grandmother's home. They left her there and they drove out to Catherine's home.

"May I help you?" Lily Flynn asked, staring from Bass to Robbins to Ecklie and back again.

"Ms. Flynn, we are here with news regarding your daughter. May we come in?" Ecklie asked. Lily led them into the house, which had pictures of Lindsey scattered around the room.

"Has something happened to Catherine? Is she alright?" Lily asked. Brass shuffled uncomfortably.

"Ms. Flynn, my name is Al Robbins. I knew your daughter quite well. She was involved in a plane crash during her trip to London. There were no survivors. I'm so sorry," Robbins dropped the bomb.

"N-no!" she shook her head before breaking down completely. Brass moved to comfort her. After a few moments he asked:

"Where is Lindsey?"

"A-at school. Writing an exam," Lily sobbed. The three men nodded.

"Is there anyone we can call?" Ecklie asked.

"S-Sam a-and Nancy," Lily choked out. Brass recognized those names as Sam Braun, Catherine's biological father, and her sister. He got on the phone and called the appropriate people, very unsure of how Sam Braun would react to hearing of his daughter's death. He knew however, the most heartbreaking moment would be when they told Lindsey Willows that she was an orphan. And he was right. When they told Lindsey when she came home from school, the young girl bust into tears. Then she said something that tore Brass's heart in two.

"U-Uncle Gil?" she asked softly, scanning the crowd for Grissom.

"I'm sorry sweetie. He was on the plane with your mother," Brass said, feeling the tears threatening to escape. Lindsey burst into more tears, and her grandmother came and held her tight. Ecklie got up to leave.

"Ecklie-" Brass started.

"We did what we had to do. We informed their families that they're dead," Ecklie said shortly, sadly, "They're dead."

However it seemed that Grissom and his team were proving Conrad Ecklie wrong again. They were almost to the island, all of them too excited for land to feel tired. Then finally, they could see the bottom of the ocean. Another few minutes and all six of them were jumping out of the raft, stumbling through knee-deep water, and finally stumbling up on the beach.

"Land!" Greg laughed, getting down on all fours and kissing the white sand. Even Grissom laughed in relief.

"Oh my God, I can't believe it! We're alive!" Catherine laughed, hugging Sara and Nick. Warrick sat down on the sand, laughing.

"If we had alcohol, this would be quite the party," he said, laughing as he, Greg, and a very reluctant Grissom, were pulled into a many armed hug. They all fell to the sand, breathing hard.

"We did good, guys," Nick breathed, his chest heaving up and down. He was exhausted and very righteously so.

"Yeah. We made it," Sara said softly.

"Y-Yeah," Grissom agreed, yawning. He didn't even need to look at his team to know they were just as wiped out as he was. His eyes were drooping and he fell into slumber.

Brass sighed as he turned on his TV, when he got home later that evening. He was just in time for the six o'clock news, and the top story in Vegas and everywhere else in the USA was about how nobody survived a plane crash in the Atlantic Ocean.

But yet on a tiny island in the middle of the ocean, six criminalists slept in the sand, proving everyone wrong.

TBC


	4. Making it Work

Author's note: this is a bit longer and i think i'm gonna experiment with a few couplings...if u don't like them, don't flame me. Thanks, and now enjoy.

Spoilers: I will generally tell what spoilers the chapters contain. In this Chapter: not really many spoilers...if there are i didnt notice

Summary: When Ecklie chooses Grissom's team to head to a conference in London, the Las Vegas CSI nightshift couldn't be more excited. Then their plane crashes in the sea. Now Grissom, Catherine, Nick, Warrick, Sara, and Greg are stranded on a deserted island and their only way home is to survive.

Disclaimer: I don't own CSI. .

Surviving the Storm

Chapter Four: Making It work

Grissom awoke the next morning to the sound of the ocean. He held a hand up to shield his eyes from the bright sunlight. The clouds had cleared and he was staring up at a clear blue sky. He sat up and looked around. Beside him, Catherine was stretching and Warrick was sitting in the shallows, washing his face. Nick, Sara, and Greg were still snoring peacefully.

"How long have we been out of it?" he asked, cracking his neck.

"According to Greg's watch, it's 9:29 AM on Saturday," Catherine answered, lifting Greg's left arm to read the time on his waterproof watch.

"Great," he replied, half-heartedly. He got to his feet and walked over to the shoreline, Catherine on his heels.

"Damn, I'd kill for a coffee. Even the sludge in the break room is starting to sound like heaven," Warrick complained upon hearing their approach.

"I think you'll be outta luck for a long time, 'Rick," Grissom said, sitting down beside him and proceeding to wash his face.

"How long do you think we'll be out here?" Catherine asked, looking at him. He smiled grimly.

"I don't know," he said for the second time in two days.

"What do you mean you don't know?" she asked, washing her own face.

"We don't know where we are or if we are even remotely close to civilization and I can't see us surviving at sea for very long in an inflatable life raft," Grissom said, running a wet hand through his hair.

"You mean we're stuck here?" Catherine asked, incredulously.

"Well if you want to paddle God knows how many miles back to the US, be my guest," Warrick told her. She wrinkled her nose.

"We could be stuck out here for days, weeks, months before we're found!" Catherine exclaimed. If she thought she didn't spend enough time with her daughter then, she sure thought it now.

"I know, Cath," Grissom said, looking away. He knew how disappointed she was; they all were.

"Jeez, you guys could wake the dead," Sara grumbled, "What's going on?"

"Morning," Grissom and Warrick grunted simultaneously.

"We might never leave this island," Catherine deadpanned, looking cross.

"WHAT!" Sara yelped. She looked at the guys, hoping for someone to contradict her.

"I'm sure someone will find us eventually," Gil said nonchalantly.

"B-but that could take ages!" Sara protested. Warrick shook his head.

"Do you think we don't know that?" he said, more than a little forcefully, getting up to walk along the beach.

"What's his problem?" Nick asked, coming to join them. Grissom shook his head.

"There is a sad possibility that we could be here for a while," he explained. Nick groaned.

"Great. How- We don't even have food or water!" he complained, putting his head in his hands. Grissom sighed.

"Go wake up Sleeping Beauty and we'll make a fire," he said, getting up to his feet and walking towards the raft.

"Yeah and I suppose you can rub two sticks together and make a fire," Nick said under his breath at Grissom's retreating back. He got up to go wake Greg.

"I hate Ecklie," Sara said, scowling as she got up to join them. Catherine nodded in agreement, but she stayed put. She couldn't believe that they were stranded here! What did they ever do? She could never see Lindsey again or her mother and sister or even Sam. She buried her face in her hands, scared to even think of the possibility.

"Get up, Greggo," Nick said, prodding the sleeping man with his foot.

"No…" Greg moaned, dragging out the word. Nick shook his head.

"Get up or I'll throw you back in the ocean," Nick threatened. He saw Greg crack open an eye. That was good enough for him. He went to join Grissom.

"Was he serious?" Greg asked Sara as she walked by. She shook her head.

"If he won't, I will. Now get up," she said sourly, heading towards the raft

"What are you looking for, Gris?" Nick asked, raising an eyebrow. He watched as his boss's face, fell and then smiled. He unzipped a pocket in the raft to reveal a two foot long metal box.

"This. We just got lucky," he said smiling. Nick looked closer. In red letters, the box said:

Survival Kit

"A survival kit?" Sara breathed. She knelt down to watch as Grissom set the kit on the ground and opened it. In it, there were waterproof matches, flashlights, three small pots, plastic cups, forks, knives, and plates, a small axe, a jackknife, a tiny first aid kit, and about five instant meal packages.

"You've got to be kidding me!" Nick beamed. Greg peered over his shoulder and let out a whoop.

"We're not dead!" he grinned.

"What do you say we get a fire started and cook up one of these meals?" Sara suggested. Grissom nodded in agreement.

"I'll take matches high over sticks any day, Nick," he said before he trekked towards the tropical forest. Nick blushed.

"He heard that?" he asked, looking at Sara. She snickered.

"Nicely done, partner," she said, patting him on the shoulder before turning to follow Grissom.

"You dug yourself real deep, Nicky," Greg joked, following Sara.

"Wait for me," Nick called, running to catch up.

Within the hour, the beach had been piled with wood.

"There's a workout and a half," Greg commented, wiping the sweat off his forehead.

"I think I'm gonna pass out," Sara agreed, sitting in the sand. Cuts lined all of their arms and bug bites were beginning to form. Grissom said that the bugs were harmless, mostly just mosquitoes. Still they were very annoying to Nick, Sara, and Greg. Grissom was in his element, however. If they weren't in a hurry, they felt sure that the entomologist would've loved to stop and examine every specimen he encountered.

"Just wait until we have this fire lit," Nick told her as he dug a small hole in the sand. Grissom was already making a little tee-pee out of some sticks. He put small bits of dried grass inside, ensuring that the fire would burn. He lit the grass using a match. Gently he blew on it, causing his little flame to grow. Finally one of the sticks caught fire.

"Let me guess," Greg said, grinning, "Your dad took you camping a lot as a kid." Grissom shook his head.

"My father left when I was five. This was pure discovery channel," he replied. Greg looked down.

"I'm sorry, Gris. I didn't know," Greg apologized. None of them knew. Gil Grissom was not the type of man to share personal information willingly.

"Don't be. It doesn't matter now," he replied, kneeling down to add more wood to the flames.

"I'll go get some water to boil," Sara offered, taking the pots to the ocean to fill. When she returned, the tree men were rigging an apparatus over the fire, designed to hold the boiling water. In no time, they were cooking up a meal of sealed roast beef and potatoes. According to the label, it could feed up to ten people, which was good news. Grissom scooped a little bit onto two plates, and filled two cups of boiled drinking water. Sara, Nick, and Greg hardly noticed as he carefully climbed onto the flat rocks overlooking the ocean.

"I brought you lunch. You should really eat something, Catherine," he said, sitting beside the blond beauty. He held out her plate for her to take. She looked at him.

"Thanks, Gil," she said softly, taking the plate and water. Grissom shrugged.

"I can't let you starve. Lindsey would kill me," he said, trying to make a joke. She shook her head.

"Assuming we ever see Lindsey again," she choked out. He saw the tears in her eyes, threatening to escape.

"We will, Cath. We'll get though this," he tried. She shook her head.

"What if we don't? What if we are suck on this island for the rest of our lives? What if I never see her again?" she asked, the tears falling freely now.

"Catherine…" he didn't know what to say. He was not very good at this sort of thing. He settled with putting a comforting arm around her. She sobbed harder on his arm.

"I never said goodbye to her," her voice was muffled against his shirt.

"_Remember to study for your exams," Catherine reminded her daughter. Lindsey rolled her eyes. _

"_I don't need to," Lindsey argued. _

"_Can we not go through this again, Lindsey? I'm tired of arguing with you!" Catherine scolded. Lately it was getting harder and harder to deal with her thirteen-year-old._

"_I'm sure you'll get a nice break in London!" the young girl scoffed, "A week of no arguing with me. I'm sure you wish it was longer!" With that she ran to her room and slammed the door._

"_Lindsey-" Catherine started to yell, but stopped when she heard a stereo blaring. What was the point?_

"Catherine, you know she didn't mean it," Gil tried, gently tracing circles on her back with his finger.

"I-I should've said goodbye. I should've tried-" she was interrupted by Gil's finger on her lips.

"You didn't know what was going to happen. She knows you love her. And you know that she loves you. How could she not? She's always adored you," he said as if it were the most logical thing in the world.

"Yeah, maybe when she was six," Catherine mumbled miserably. Gil chuckled. She looked at him, quite perplexed.

"I remember when you brought her into work with you when she was six. She made you set up her dollhouse in the break room. She would not let you leave until you agreed to play with her. Then she saw me and forced me to join the two of you," he explained. He saw a ghost of a smile on Catherine's face.

"We were an hour late to get to the scene," she said, remembering that day.

"Longest hour of my life," he said. She smiled at him.

"You enjoyed yourself," she said matter-of-factly.

"Did not," he said childishly. It was so out his character that she started to laugh. He joined in, pleased that his little anecdote cheered her up, somewhat. When their laughter subsided, she sighed.

"You know, you're not so bad at this," she said. He shook his head, embarrassed.

"Better?" he asked.

"A little bit. Thank you," she said gratefully.

"Happy I could help," he replied. She drank a bit of her water and looked down the beach.

"Warrick's back," she noted. Grissom looked and sure enough, he could make out the tall black man heading towards them.

"Shall we?" he asked, standing up, and offering her a hand. She took it and he pulled her to her feet. They carefully made their way down the rocks and towards the fire, just as Warrick arrived.

"Hey, 'Rick," Nick greeted, nodding at his friend. Warrick smiled.

"Hey, guys," he greeted, looking a little guilty when he saw the roaring fire.

"Welcome back," Grissom said kindly.

"Yeah…uh…thanks. I'm sorry I didn't-" Warrick started, gesturing to the fire.

"It's okay. We survived," Greg shrugged. Sara gestured to the food.

"Hungry?" she asked. Warrick sat down.

"Starving," he replied, "But where-"

"We got very lucky. Survival Pack," Nick said, handing him a plate. Warrick grinned and dished himself a helping of food.

"We still need to find something edible that comes from the island. The survival packs can only last for so long. Then we're out of luck," Grissom explained.

"So now what?" Catherine asked.

"We'll have to live off of the island. Most of the insects I've seen-" Grissom started.

"NO!" five voices yelled at once. Grissom shrugged.

"Just a suggestion," he said meekly.

"I saw a tree with some coconuts in them," Greg piped up. They looked at him.

"Where?" Grissom asked, curiously.

"In the trees," Greg shrugged. Nick shook his head.

"Thanks for telling us now, Greggo," he said, rolling his eyes.

"Well, we were bound to find some food sometime," Sara said.

"Anyone feel like looking for food?" Grissom asked. It turned out all of the CSIs wanted to help. Anything was better then sitting around on the beach. Then there was Catherine's reason:

"I wouldn't want to miss watching your attempts at getting coconuts out of a tree."

Indeed, it turned out to be very entertaining. Greg tried throwing rocks up at the coconuts, to no avail, and wound up almost hitting Sara. Then Warrick tried hoisting Catherine up, but due to an errant mosquito, both wound up tumbling into the vegetation.

"I hate bugs," Catherine groaned, getting to her feet. Grissom gave her a look and she returned it with a smirk.

"Sar, do you think you could climb up there?" Nick asked.

"I could try. Give me a boost," she requested. Nick got down on all fours, so she could step on his back to get more height. When she had her feet on Nick's shoulders, he eased upwards, giving her a few more inches. Finally she was able to shimmy up to the top and drop about five or six coconuts down to them. She slid down and was helped to her feet by Nick, ever the gentleman.

"Nice work," Grissom said, beaming, bending over to pick up a coconut, "All we need to do is gather more food and figure out how to get these things open."

"I hope there's a corkscrew on that jackknife," Warrick said.

And so the CSIs continued gathering food. Several hours later, they had not only gathered coconuts, but found a bushel of tiny bananas, several edible plants, and even found a few small snails along the beach.

"They're a delicacy in France," Grissom shrugged.

"We were going to England," Catherine pointed out.

Darkness fell, and for lack of a shelter at the moment, they decided to pull the raft further onto the beach to sleep in. It did the job. All six of them could lie comfortably, well as comfortable as a raft can be, anyways.

"It was a long day," Nick yawned.

"Yeah, but we're making this work," Warrick said, staring up at the stars from his position in the raft.

"We have no other choice," Grissom agreed.

"Greg, quit scratching! You just hit me!" Sara yelled, as Greg's elbow collided with her gut. The bug bites were killing him.

"Don't blame me. Ouch! You just elbowed me!" he protested.

"Mosquito bite," Sara replied innocently. He glared at her.

"Yeah, right. Mosquito," he said rolling his eyes.

"Go to sleep, children," Grissom sighed. Then they heard a rustling in the trees.

"What was that?" Catherine asked, sitting up.

"Wind," Warrick grunted.

"What wind, Warrick?" she asked. There was not even a breeze, let alone enough wind to rustle the trees. Then there was a low, almost growl like noise coming from the trees.

"Probably some animal. It won't go near the fire, Cath," Grissom said, sitting up to look into the trees.

"Gil," Catherine said, getting his attention.

"Yes?"

"We're building a shelter tomorrow," she said. There were several murmurs in agreement as the animal continued to make noise.

TBC


	5. Anything But Resting In Peace

Author's note: i'm sorry this took so long, but my great-grandmother passed away last weekend and i got the flu...a day after my bday! it sucked...so anyhoo...this is a good length...I'm likin the way this is going...enjoy! and if i don't update before xmas...Happy Holidays and Merry Christmas.

Spoilers: I will generally tell what spoilers the chapters contain. In this Chapter: very tiny inside the box, sounds of silence, season 6, lady heather's box, Ellie, Hollywood Brass, grave danger, again VERY tiny

Summary: When Ecklie chooses Grissom's team to head to a conference in London, the Las Vegas CSI nightshift couldn't be more excited. Then their plane crashes in the sea. Now Grissom, Catherine, Nick, Warrick, Sara, and Greg are stranded on a deserted island and their only way home is to survive.

Disclaimer: I don't own CSI. .

Surviving the Storm

Chapter Five: Anything But Resting Peacefully

It was a sad day in Las Vegas, Nevada as the entire Criminalistics Bureau gathered in the large church to say goodbye to six of their colleagues. The families of each criminalist were seated in the front rows, waiting for the funeral service to begin. Gil Grissom's mother was seated front row and center, to ensure that she could see what the minister was saying. To her right sat Sam Braun, Lily Flynn, Nancy and her family. Lindsey Willows sat in between her grandparents, tears already falling as she remembered her father's funeral, and what her mother said that day:

"_It's okay to cry, Lindsey. Just remember the good times."_

Beside Nancy's husband, sat Sara Sidle's older brother, whom they finally managed to track down. To Mrs. Grissom's left sat Tina Brown, sobbing into a tissue, and her deceased husband's grandmother. Beside them sat the Mr. and Mrs. Stokes and Nick's brother and sisters. Further down still, sat Greg Sanders's parents, his mother dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief. In the rows back, important people from the lab sat, waiting as well. Among them were Conrad Ecklie, the sheriff, the Director of the lab, the mayor, and several other people in deep suits. Further back sat the Jim Brass, Al Robbins, Archie Johnson, Sgt O'Rielly, Vartan, Vega, and several other detectives and nightshift employees. The last rows were for anyone who wanted to come pay their respects.

Towards the front, a podium stood, waiting for the speeches. Six enlarged picture of each criminalist were placed on the small stage. One large picture of the entire group was in the middle. Brass could remember when that picture was taken. It was at the last LVPD Christmas party. They had even got a smile out of Grissom.

"_Come on, we need a picture!" Catherine had suggested to her other five colleagues._

"_A picture?" Gil asked sceptically with his typical quirk of an eyebrow._

"_Sure!" Nick said grinning, "A picture of the newly-reformed nightshift!"_

"_I didn't know you were so sentimental, Nicky," Sara teased. He glared at her. _

"_Jeez, if I didn't like Greg and Grissom so much, I'd go back to swing shift," he pouted, but there was that big Texas smile on his face._

"_Come on, this'll be fun," Catherine said, getting to her feet. _

"_Will we ever hear the end of this if we don't take the picture?" Warrick asked, rubbing the bridge of his nose._

"_No," Catherine answered simply. He groaned and got to his feet, followed by Nick and Sara._

"_I'm game," Greg shrugged, also rising. All five of them looked to their supervisor, who was still in his seat at the table. Grissom had no intention of moving, but that didn't stop Catherine._

"_Oh no you don't. You're going to be in this picture whether you like it or not," she said firmly, placing her hands on her hips._

"_No I'm not," Grissom said evenly, looking quite comfortable right where he was. Catherine wasn't the least bit fazed. On the contrary, she was grinning like a Cheshire cat._

"_Really? Well, Mr. Grissom…," she replied coolly, leaning over and whispering something in his ear. His eyes widened._

"_You wouldn't dare," he said looking her in the eyes. She grinned slyly, knowing she won._

"_What?" the former lab rat asked, or rather whined. She ignored him._

"_Wouldn't I?" she asked Gil dangerously. They stared at each other for a few moments before he caved._

"_Fine," he said, "But it's very dishonest to blackmail people, Catherine." He got up and the six of them made their way to the fountain._

"_Hey, Jim, do you wanna take this picture for us?" Nick called to the surly detective. Brass shrugged and took the camera._

"_Now isn't this a cute little family," he teased as he lined up his shot, "Mom, Dad, and the kids." They glared at him._

"_Hey, Dad, can I have a raise in allowance?" Greg mimicked looking at Grissom. This caused the rest of the CSIs to crack up._

"_Only if you promise never to call me dad again," Grissom replied. He was smiling his own little satisfied smile as the flash went off. _

Brass cracked a watery smile as he relived the memory. No longer would he be able to tease Grissom and "the nerd squad". They never did find out what Catherine used to get Gil to do her bidding.

Then all was silent as the minister got up to the podium and led them in prayer. After the minister said his piece, there were six separate eulogies for each CSI. After Greg's uncle sat down, several people rose to the podium to say goodbye to the six CSIs, Brass amongst them.

"My name is Jim Brass and I had the pleasure of working side by side with the nightshift CSIs and I will miss every single one of them. They were hardworking and…and they were the best people I have ever known. I've must have worked hundreds of cases with them and I know that it's going to be really…really hard without them," he could feel the tears welling up in his eyes, "I remember how distracted Gil would get if a scene was ever accidentally contaminated. It would bug him for hours. And Catherine…well, you never needed to worry about Catherine Willows. She could always take care of herself and she'd never let you worry about her. Warrick was always there for you when you needed him. I can remember a few times when he helped me out of a jam or two. Most of them, incidentally, involved my daughter, Ellie, but we won't get into that. And Sara was always good to work with. She kinda reminded me of Grissom in the old days. She was a great person. And Nicky…wow…he was quite the guy. Whenever you needed a hand, he was there. I'm just glad that I didn't have to say this a few months ago when we nearly lost him. It was a few more months with one of my closest friends. Last, but certainly not least, there's Greg Sanders. He hasn't been a CSI for long, but he would've been great. He was a stand up guy, one of the few that still had a sense of humour after his first year on the job. Wow…I'm gonna miss them," tears were now freely falling, "Well, I guess this is goodbye, Gil, Cath, Sara, Warrick, Nick, Greg, it's been a pleasure." he saluted them and took his seat.

After Brass's speech there were several other little blurbs, and even Ecklie broke up when it was his turn. After, they left the church and held a short memorial gathering at Catherine's house, where everybody toasted the six criminalists lost at sea.

"To the nightshift, may you all rest in peace."

The nightshift, however, were doing anything but resting. The first thing they did when they woke up was eat a small breakfast containing bananas and coconut milk. Sara and Catherine tended to the fire and gathered firewood and more water to boil, while Grissom, Nick, Warrick and Greg ventured into the forest to use their axe to cut down several thin, but sturdy trees.

"Timber!" Greg shouted as his tree fell to the ground. There was a huge self-satisfied grin on his face as he surveyed his work.

"Nice work, Paul Bunyan. Let's take this load to the beach," Nick suggested, helping Greg life a few fallen trees. Warrick grabbed the small axe and went to work on another tree.

"How many more of these do we need, Gris?" Warrick called over to where Grissom was walking trough the trees. Grissom shrugged.

"Beats me. I guess as many as it takes to make an 'animal-proof shelter,'" he said, rolling his eyes. Warrick shook his head.

"Don't you think Cath is taking this animal thing a little far?" Warrick asked, stopping his chopping to wipe sweat from his brow.

"Yes I do, but we also need a shelter. I'm thinking maybe a lean-to or something like that," Grissom replied thoughtfully.

"Yeah…especially for six people who deal in crime, not architecture," Warrick agreed, finally chopping down his tree.

"True. Hand me the axe. It's my turn anyways," Grissom said, taking the tool and preceding to hack at a skinny tree. Warrick walked around the small clearing and peered at some of the shrubbery.

"Any of this stuff edible?" he asked, kneeling down to look at a fern.

"I wouldn't touch that if I was you," Grissom warned, not even looking up from his chopping. Warrick stood up, perplexed.

"Why?"

"Poison Ivy," Grissom said simply. Warrick groaned. I guess that's what being brought up in the city did to a guy, he thought, shaking his head.

"And this?" he asked, looking over to Grissom before he touched anything.

"Aloe plants," Grissom replied, looking over, "It's good for bug bites." Hearing this, Warrick promptly picked it. The mosquitoes were killing them!

"Come help me take these back to the beach. This should be enough," Grissom said, motioning Warrick over. Together they hauled the trees back to the beach, where they found the others having a snack and a drink.

"So how's the chopping coming?" Sara asked, motioning for them to sit down.

"I think we're about done and ready to figure out how to build this thing," Warrick replied, taking a sip of water.

"Wow, you guys work fast," Catherine said, impressed, "Need any help?"

"If you want," Grissom shrugged.

"So how are we going to build this?" Greg asked.

"Warrick and I were thinking of maybe a lean-to or something like that," Grissom replied.

"It'd work. I saw it on Discovery once," Nick agreed.

"Alright TV boy, tell us about it," Warrick said. Nick ignored him and went on to explain how to build a lean-to and what the easiest way to do it would be.

"So according to the Discovery channel, we put one straight stick along like this," Grissom said, holding one six-foot tree horizontally along three trees near the edge of the bush. He teetered a little bit, before Greg and Nick moved to help him.

"You might wanna watch your back there old man," Greg said, grinning. Grissom glared at him.

"You better watch who you're calling 'old', Greg, or you'll be sleeping out side," Grissom threatened while Warrick guided their branch across three of the trees' lower branches. When they were sure it would hold, they let go. Catherine grinned at Greg's worried look.

"Don't worry, Greg, he wouldn't make you sleep outside," she told him. His face relaxed a little bit. Then she added, "You'll just wanna make sure you don't fall asleep inside."

"Why'd you have to go and say that other part?" Greg whined. Catherine just smiled at him and helped the others add sticks to their little shelter.

A little over an hour later, the six of them stood on the sand in front of their completed shelter. The open side of the shelter faced the beach so they could see any oncoming boats or planes from the shelter.

"Well, it's not the Four Seasons, but it's shelter," Nick said simply.

"You guys don't think you could build a shower and a bathroom in there, do you?" Sara joked.

"Don't push your luck, Sar. The plumbing won't be in until sometime next year, so you'll just have to use a tree like the rest of us," Nick replied cheekily.

"Cute, Nicky. Real cute. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got to go to the tree," Sara replied, walking past them into the bush.

"Watch out for Poison Ivy!" Nick called after her, causing the others to crack up. Even Grissom cracked a smile.

"We're having leftover roast beef and potatoes for supper. Cath, do you wanna hand me that pot of water to boil?" Grissom asked. He put the leftovers in a pot to boil off the bacteria, and then he used the frying pan to fry the potatoes.

"Call me when it's ready. I'm going for a swim," Warrick said, walking towards the ocean.

"Me too. I need a bath," Nick said, getting up to follow Warrick. Both men walked into the water fully clothed. They had figured out yesterday that this was an easy way to get clean and clean their clothes. The only drawbacks were that you had to swim well before nightfall and your clothes were salt crusted.

"Ditto that," Greg said following.

"We're going to have to fish them out of there, aren't we?" Catherine asked, laughing at their antics.

"Yeah, but the only problem is we don't have poles," Grissom replied, "You know you don't have to help me cook. You can go keep an eye on that lot if you want."

"Nah, I'm too hungry to swim," she said smiling.

"That hasn't stopped the three bottomless pits over there," Grissom said motioning to Greg, Nick, and Warrick.

"I'll go later," she shrugged.

"Don't go too late. We don't have any blankets if you're cold in your clothes in the middle of the night," he told her seriously.

"Then I'll just have to skinny-dip. My clothes won't get wet," she shrugged. His eyes widened and he stared at her.

"Oh, I'm kidding," she said, exasperated, trying not to giggle at his expression.

"Right," he said turning to stir the potatoes.

"Did I just hear you say you were going skinny-dipping, Catherine?" Sara asked, emerging from the trees with a perplexed look on her face.

"No, Grissom just can't take a joke," Catherine replied, smirking at her boss, "The guys are out swimming. I'm going later," she explained.

"Cool. I think I'll go join them," Sara said getting up.

"No point, Sara. The food's done anyways. Could you call the guys for me, please?" Grissom asked.

"Sure," she said, "GUYS! Food's done!" she shouted.

"I could've done that," Grissom deadpanned. Within a matter of minutes, the guys were back in front of the fire, plates ready to be filled.

"Jeez Gris, this is pretty good," Greg said between bites.

"Thanks. I had to learn to cook from somewhere, you know," Grissom replied.

An hour and a half after they finished their food, Grissom, Catherine, and Sara went for their swim while the guys cleaned up. Grissom being Grissom swam off down the beach away from the two women.

"He has got to be the shyest man I've ever seen," Sara said to Catherine while they floated on the surface of the water.

"You know what he's like. He's not used to being around people," she said simply.

"Well that's obvious," she said just before a wave tipped them over.

"I think we should head back," Catherine spluttered when she broke the surface. It was like being plane wrecked all over again. The kicked and swam hard towards the beach. It was a good thing that they weren't very far out or they would've been in some serious trouble. It took them a horrendous amount of effort to just get to where they could tough the ocean floor. Finally, they made it to the shallows, breathing hard.

"Are you guys okay?" they heard Grissom's voice say somewhere above them.

"Y-Yeah. Just peachy," Sara panted. She took Grissom's outstretched hand and was pulled to her feet. Beside her, Catherine was using Grissom's other hand to steady herself. Their legs felt like Jell-O.

"How'd you get back here so fast?" Catherine asked, breathing hard.

"I'm a good swimmer," he said simply, "Are you okay?" he asked again.

"Yeah," both women said at the same time.

"It looks like we're in for a storm tonight," he said, guiding them back up to the shelter.

"Wow, what happened to you guys?" Nick asked, getting to his feet.

"We've been through the rinse cycle," Catherine groaned.

Grissom was right; they were in for a storm. The sun was already out of the sky when a strong gust of wind took out their shelter.

"Guys, I must say you're shelter building needs some work!" Sara said over the wind.

"You try it next time if you think you're so smart!" Greg responded placing his arms over his head to protect his ears from the wind.

"Let's just sleep in the raft again," Warrick said after he, Nick, and Grissom tried in vain to rebuild some of their shelter. They used the flashlights from the survival kit to find where they stowed their raft on the sand.

"This sucks," Catherine mumbled. They were cramped in that little lifeboat again, but at least the walls kept the wind from bothering them while they were lying down.

"Aw, Cath, this isn't so bad," Nick replied, "It's like camping out under the stars. Most people would love this, just looking up at the night sky."

Then it started to pour.

"Nicky, somehow I'm not sharing your enthusiasm," she deadpanned.

TBC


	6. Exploring

Author's note: i'm sorry this took so long...exams and all that...so enjoy

Spoilers: I will generally tell what spoilers the chapters contain. In this Chapter: i dont think there are any spoilers...if there are, i'm sorry.

Summary: When Ecklie chooses Grissom's team to head to a conference in London, the Las Vegas CSI nightshift couldn't be more excited. Then their plane crashes in the sea. Now Grissom, Catherine, Nick, Warrick, Sara, and Greg are stranded on a deserted island and their only way home is to survive.

Disclaimer: I don't own CSI.or the rights to any of the movies listed below.

Surviving the Storm

Chapter Six: Exploring

As if to spite the six castaways, the sun was shinning bright and early the next morning as if the night's storm had never happened. It had rained until about four in the morning and the sun was already hot in the sky at seven. Sara and Nick were in the process of finding a place to store all of this fresh water they had just received. While boiled ocean water quenched their thirst, they all knew that it was not healthy. While they were doing that, Grissom and Catherine were drying out sticks for a fire and Warrick and Greg were trying to set up a stronger shelter.

"Figured out the reason why the last shelter didn't hold," Warrick said, walking around the fallen pile of sticks.

"Direction of the wind?" Greg ventured, clearing a few sticks from the pile.

"No, the branches weren't strong enough on the trees holding the support stick," Warrick explained. He indicated to the branches snapped in half.

"Maybe if we found something to secure it better, the shelter would stand this time," Greg said, throwing some of the smaller twigs into a pile.

"That would be nice," Sara deadpanned, carrying a pot full of fresh water to the shade of a tree. Greg couldn't help but smirk.

"Well at least you got your shower, Sara," he teased. She flipped him off.

"Someone's in a good mood," Warrick said sarcastically.

"It must be all this fresh air," Greg said, smiling as Sara glared at him and went off to help Nick. He sneezed.

"Bless you. You alright, man?" Warrick asked.

"Yeah. I must be allergic to something out here," Greg said shrugging off Warrick's concern.

"If it gets worse, talk to Grissom," Warrick said, proceeding to build a new shelter. Greg nodded and helped pile sticks. Since the plane crash, all of the CSIs had rallied around Grissom as their unofficial leader. He knew a great deal about many of the plants and insect life on the island, and, although he was normally closed-off to the rest of the world, he cared about them.

In almost no time at all, Grissom and Catherine had a small fire going.

"That didn't take half as fast as I thought it would," she remarked. He nodded.

"The sun dried most of the wood. Hungry?" he asked, grabbing a frying pan.

"You cooked last night. It's my turn," she said, holding a hand out for the pan. He looked at her sternly.

"It's no trouble. I actually kind of enjoy it," he shrugged. In truth, cooking was a lot like a science experiment for him. He never quite knew what the results would be. Being able to cook on the island was one reason why he was not going insane. It was just like a science experiment.

"Are you sure?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, so don't worry about it," he assured her as he got to work on a breakfast. It was nothing elaborate. He had a few different fruits, coconuts, and some of the more edible plants on the island. In other words the most he could make was a 'rabbit's breakfast' as Warrick put it. They needed more protein in their diets, he mused. Fish, snails, birds, even insects would suffice.

"So, what's for breakfast, boss?" Nick asked, sitting down with Sara.

"New concoction. Fruit and coconut soup," he replied quietly. Nick made a face.

"What's wrong with that? It could be good," Sara asked, turning to look at him. He looked at her like she was from outer space.

"What's wrong with that, Sara? How about the fact that there's no meat! No bacon and eggs," he said pouting a little. She shook her head.

"I'm a vegetarian, Nick," she said.

"Yeah, I know that, Sara, but unless you have some tofu in your pocket, you're in the same boat as the rest of us," he replied. Catherine and Grissom, both sensing an argument, felt the need to cut in. The last thing they needed was dissention amongst the group.

"Nick, save it, we'll be going exploring and food gathering later. We need more protein in our diets. Who knows, we might come across Catherine's friend in the forest who likes to keep us up all night," Grissom said. Nick nodded and didn't say a word. Sara, about to protest, was cut across by Catherine.

"And we're going to find some other kind of food that is good protein for Sara," she said, looking at the younger woman.

"Thanks," Sara muttered sheepishly.

"Hey, things seem super serious over here," Warrick said, as he and Greg sat down with the rest of them.

"It's not. How's the shelter building going?" Nick asked.

"We have an idea. The lean-to isn't working out too well," Greg said, "So instead, we were thinking of just putting sticks in the sand vertically and then draping the walls with some of those huge tree leaves."

"We'd have some other supports in the walls too," Warrick added.

"What about the roof?" Catherine asked. At this, Greg and Warrick smiled.

"We've actually really thought this through," Warrick said, "We figured we would carve notches into sticks to lie horizontally on each wall. Then we decided that we could put two support beams for the roof, then lay sticks loosely on top, and then cover it with leaves."

"I'm impressed, you guys. You really thought this through. But do you realize how long a project like this could take?" Grissom asked. There was something in his tone that reminded each CSI of when they were new on the job and Grissom would ask them what they would next throughout the whole investigation.

"It could take anywhere from a couple of days to a couple of weeks, depending how long and hard we'd work on it. Since it doesn't look like we'll be going anywhere anytime soon, I don't see why we couldn't do it," Greg answered promptly. Being the newest criminalist in the lab, he was used to Grissom's questions for rookies. Greg looked at his boss for some confirmation.

"Very true, Greg. If it works, then I don't see why not," Grissom replied. Greg smiled proudly. It wasn't often that they could impress Grissom.

After they ate their breakfast, which tasted mostly of bananas and coconuts, the six of them got started on the shelter. Most of the sticks were around six feet in length and those that varied were cut to be the same. When they took a small break for lunch, they had finished making notches in one long branch to go across one wall and all of the sticks were the same length.

"So when are we going to go exploring, Gris?" Nick asked, eager to have something other than a banana to munch on. Grissom shrugged.

"Whenever you want to go, Nick, go ahead," he said simply.

"I wanna go- go-" Greg sneezed and then continued, "I wanna go exploring too."

"Are you sick, Greg?" Grissom asked, looking at him. Greg shook his head.

"No, no, it was just a sneeze. I'm fine," he quickly amended.

"Are you sure?" Catherine asked.

"Yeah. I'm fine! How many times do I have to say it?" Greg asked, somewhat frustrated. They regarded him with an uneasy look. Then, because he had crossed his arms stubbornly, they moved the conversation along.

"Let's take a break from the shelter," Sara said.

"Sounds good," Warrick agreed. All six of them decided on a walk through the trees and it was a pleasant walk. They joked with each other and when they came across some vines hanging from a few trees, before they could cut them, Nick, Warrick, and Greg had to have a swing. Luckily the only things they bruised when the plant snapped were their egos. They collected the vines, knowing they could be used for something. Even Grissom was enjoying himself. More often then not, he stopped to view some exotic specimen, only to be prodded along by Catherine.

"It's not gonna hurt you, Cath," he said as he view a particularly large beetle.

"I'll agree with you when there is a good distance between me and it," she quipped in response, pushing him ahead. He sighed loudly.

"How come you aren't scared of my bugs at home?" he asked.

"Because they are in glass cages," she answered. He rolled his eyes.

They walked a little further, collecting more fruits and food along the way. Soon they made it to a small clearing or it was more like a part between the trees and a rocky slope. To the right they could see a small stream winding through the trees.

"Do you think that it's fresh water?" Sara asked. Warrick shrugged and bent over to cup a small amount in his hand and brought it to his mouth.

"No salt," he confirmed.

"Don't drink anymore before we boil it," Nick said.

"So now we have two options. We could follow the stream and see where it takes us, or we could climb up the slope," Grissom said.

"Let's go up. We could see the whole island," Warrick suggested. Deciding it was not such a bad idea, they climbed. From the ground it looked doable.

It wasn't nearly as easy as it looked, however, even though it was not very steep. They nearly slipped a couple of times, but finally, breathless, they reached the top. The view was incredible. The other side of the slope was another rocky side, again, not too steep, that gave way to more trees. From this height, they could see all sides of the island, though the sides that the CSIs hadn't came across seemed farther away from the rocky ledge then their camp was. They saw where the river wound around to the ocean. They could see birds flying over the tree tops; some had bright feathers, while others were common gulls.

"I wish I had a shotgun," Greg said longingly. Sara rolled her eyes, but had to agree that a fried piece of meat allured to her like never before.

"Birds have eggs. We could find a nest and raid it," Catherine suggested, "Nicky, we might be one step closer to your bacon and eggs."

With that they carefully climbed down from the slope and followed the river, looking for bird's nests. They saw two, but both proved empty. The third, however, held two white eggs.

"Breakfast!" Nick exclaimed, jumping down from the tree, clutching an egg in each hand.

They continued to follow the river until the came upon a beach.

"Well, that's that," Grissom said.

"We're going back?" Warrick asked.

"Might as well," Grissom agreed. It took them a little over an hour and a half to get back to their camp.

It was around six o'clock and Grissom whipped up a small super after they had all agreed to save the eggs until the following morning. They did a little more work on the shelter until it got dark.

It was a calm night, and no one felt the need to go to bed right at sunset. All six of them sat around the fire, just enjoying each other's company, something that they rarely done when they were at home. Nick even came up with a game to pass the time. He called it 'Movie Connections'. You said two movies and connected them by the actors in them.

"'The Day After Tomorrow' and 'Jaws'," Warrick said, looking expectantly at the others. Everyone was trying to form a connection, but it turned out the only one who figured it out was the only person who hadn't participated thus far. Grissom.

"Lorraine Gary who was in 'Jaws' was also in 'Jaws: The Revenge' with Michael Caine, who was in 'Batman Begins' with Gary Oldman, who was in 'Harry Potter' with David Thewlis, who was in 'Kingdom of Heaven' with Orlando Bloom, who was in…'Ned Kelly' with Heath Ledger, who was in 'Brokeback Mountain' with the son in 'The Day After Tomorrow'," he finished.

"You mean Jake Gyllenhall?" Sara asked. Grissom nodded.

"Nicely done, Gris," Warrick said, impressed.

"Thanks," he shrugged.

"I wasn't under the impression that 'Harry Potter' was in your viewing schedule," Greg said. Grissom shrugged.

"Catherine and Lindsey dragged me to it," he answered. Catherine shook her head.

"Yes, and you had such a terrible time," she said sarcastically.

"Kay, Gris, your turn," Nick said. Grissom looked deep in thought.

"Alright, since we were on the subject of 'Harry Potter', do that and…'Pearl Harbour'," he said finally. It was a lot harder coming up with movies that weren't already connected then to connect them. Catherine laughed.

"Okay. Ben Affleck was in 'Armageddon' with Liv Tyler, who starred in 'Lord of the Rings' with Orlando Bloom, and the rest, you have already connected, Gil," she said triumphantly. He groaned.

"Damn," he said.

"My turn…um…'Overboard' and 'A Walk to Remember'," she said.

"Chick flicks?" Greg complained.

"You got it pal," she said smiling. There was silence, except for the water waves. Finally Sara spoke up.

"Goldie Hawn was in 'The Banger Sisters' with Geoffrey Rush, right?" she asked. Catherine nodded.

"He was in 'Pirates of the Caribbean' with Orlando Bloom, who was in 'Lord of the Rings' with Elijah Wood. And he was in that movie with McCaulay Culkin…'The Good Son', I think it was called…anyways, I saw him in a movie with Mandy Moore, and she was in 'A Walk to Remember'" Sara finished.

"Yeah. You could have got there faster. Goldie Hawn was also in 'The Banger Sisters' with Susan Sarandon, who was in 'Step-mom' with Julia Roberts, who was in 'Erin Brockovich' with the father on 'A Walk to Remember'," Catherine said.

After a few more rounds, they decided to call it quits and cram into the raft once again.

"You know, I think this raft is starting to grow on me," Warrick sighed, causing laughter to flow through the silence of the night.

TBC

AN: me and my friends came up with Movie Connections in Physics class...it helped pass the time when we were supposed to be studying. And yes, I know Marg Helgenberger was in Erin Brockovich as well. lol...u know i was gonna make this a cliffhanger, but i decided that can wait for a later chapter...just to be nice.


	7. New Discoveries

Author's note: i meant to update sooner...i really did! All in all enjoy...This has finally come out right. Our friends are headed for more trouble, I am sad to say.

Spoilers: I will generally tell what spoilers the chapters contain. In this Chapter: slight Grave Danger references

Summary: When Ecklie chooses Grissom's team to head to a conference in London, the Las Vegas CSI nightshift couldn't be more excited. Then their plane crashes in the sea. Now Grissom, Catherine, Nick, Warrick, Sara, and Greg are stranded on a deserted island and their only way home is to survive.

Disclaimer: I don't own CSI.or William Golding's "Lord Of The Flies"

Surviving the Storm

Chapter 7: New Discoveries

Over the next three days, the CSIs fell into a routine. In the mornings, after they washed up and had breakfast, which would vary depending on what was found the previous day, they would split off and some would gather firewood, and the others would continue working on their shelter. Then, after lunch, it was bath time. The sun was always hottest at this time in the day and just playing in the water was most appealing to everyone. After swimming, general chores around camp were taken care of. These would range from tending to the fire to gathering food to fetching water to boil. These chores weren't assigned or anything like that. They all knew what needed to be done and did it. It was just like being back in Vegas at work. When supper rolled around, everyone ate together, and afterwards, everyone helped clean-up. Then they would all go gathering, either separated into smaller groups or as one big group. When they returned, it would be close to sunset and just some tidying up around camp was done. After darkness fell, some would sit around the fire, some would crash early, or they would all sit and talk around the fire. Once again, the six criminalists had proved their effectiveness.

The shelter was taking some time, but they were making progress. Two walls had been completed and were lying on the sand until the other two were finished. Nick and Warrick had put together a door frame and had stuck it in the sand the previous night as a joke. Whenever they walked towards the beach, they had to walk in between their two sticks. It had gotten lame fast. Even Greg had only half-heartedly joined in to their antics. This struck all of them as odd. Back in Las Vegas, he was always the one cracking lame jokes, but now he looked pale and tired. Maybe it was from his cold, which had established itself earlier, or perhaps the effects of the island were starting to take a toll on his boyish demeanour, as it had already begun for the rest of them.

Today it was about two o'clock on their seventh day of being plane-wrecked. The sun was as hot as ever as the castaways lay in the shadows of the palm trees. Catherine sighed as she sat up and looked at her coworkers. Even after only a few days on the island, she could see the changes of appearance in all of them. All of the men had discarded their shirts in the sand, save for Grissom, who wore a white undershirt. Sunburns marred the skin that showed while various cuts, scrapes, and bruises lined arms, torso, and legs. Pants were torn and salt-crusted and stained with dirt and sweat. Catherine and Sara, in an effort to keep cool, fashioned their shirts so that they could be worn like tube-tops, while their own jeans were rolled up to their knees. Their hair was worn up in ponytails rather then keeping it down. Despite their best efforts, all of the guys looked rather scruffy. Warrick's once clean-shaven face was full of stubble and Nick had the beginnings of a very Grissom-like beard. Grissom himself was badly in need of a trim, while Greg seemed to grow little stubble, yet his hair was already almost hanging into his eyes.

Finally, unable to take much more of sitting there and looking at the others, Catherine rose to her feet.

"Does anyone want to come for a walk?" she asked, breaking the silence. Warrick shook his head, while Nick and Sara groaned in response. Greg didn't even wake up. Grissom, however, nodded and rose to his feet.

Hardly a word was spoken between the two as they walked along the beach, keeping in the shade of the palms. The silence wasn't awkward. Silence was hardly ever awkward between the two of them. This reminded her so much of home that she smiled brightly. Grissom, catching her smile, looked perplexed.

"What?" he asked. She shook her head.

"Nothing."

"C'mon Cath," he coaxed, looking at her.

"This just reminds me of home," she replied simply.

"What? Walking?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. She shook her head and laughed.

"No. Us."

"I guess it does," he said softly. The silence consumed them once more. Not a word was spoken as they turned into the trees, winding a path to the stream.

"Cath, stop," Grissom whispered urgently as they were nearing the stream.

"If we're stopping because of another bug, I swear I'll-"

"Shh! Look!" he whispered again pointing towards the stream. She saw it and her eyes widened.

"Is that a boar?" she asked incredulously. He nodded as the wild animal finished its drink and capered deeper into the forest.

"Amazing," Grissom breathed.

"How did we miss that?" Catherine asked.

"None of us has been all over the island yet," he answered simply, then he smirked, "Actually, that just might be your animal friend from our first night here."

"Ha ha ha," she said dryly. She moved towards the clearing and water.

"Shall we tell Nick that we found his bacon?" Grissom asked, following her. She stopped and looked back at him, smiling.

"I don't know. He might pull a Jack Merridew on us and go savage," she joked and took a few steps forward. The reference to 'Lord of the Flies' was not lost to him, yet it took him a moment to respond because, not for the first time in his life, he found himself staring at Catherine Willows.

"I don't think Nick is a likely candidate for face-paint," he recovered lamely. She smiled slightly.

"Shall we go home?" she asked.

"Lead the way."

When they got "home", the others seemed to be amusing themselves, for Warrick and Sara were rolling in the sand laughing. Moving a little further down the beach, Grissom and Catherine saw the cause of their laughter. Sprawled out in a heap was Greg and Nick, white feathers were in the sand around them and they both had pained expressions on their faces.

"What happened?" Catherine asked, looking at the chaos on the beach.

"Nick…and…Greg…seagull…" Warrick said in between breaths.

"It isn't funny!" Greg pouted, rubbing a new bruise on his arm.

"Yes, it is!" Sara retorted, wiping tears from her eyes.

"I don't know what's more bruised; my butt or my ego," Nick groaned pushing himself up off the sand.

"Okay then," Catherine said, staring at the four of them like they lost their minds.

"Man, I'll remember that to my dying day," Warrick said, his breathing still laboured.

"You would've thanked us if we caught that stupid thing," Greg scoffed.

"But instead we thank you for the laugh you provided us with," Sara said smugly, pleased with getting one-up on her spiky-haired companion. Grissom shook his head and turned to Catherine.

"Your Jack Merridew theory may not be that far off," he said, offering her a smile. She willingly accepted and smiled along with him.

"Huh?" Nick asked, looking from Grissom to Catherine and back again.

"While we were on our walk we came across a wild boar," Catherine explained.

"Are you serious?" Warrick asked.

"No, we're just saying it to get your hopes up," Grissom said sarcastically, then in his normal tone, "Yes; it was just by the river."

They all stared for a moment because the Gil Grissom they all knew was never that sarcastic. Then the moment was over.

"So we could have eggs AND bacon?" Nick asked, grinning.

"Yup," Catherine responded, grinning at the expressions of joy on everyone's face.

"After the shelter is finished, of course," Grissom chimed in.

"Then let's get crackin'" Greg said, rubbing his hands together.

The six of them worked on the shelter for the remainder of the afternoon and to some extent in the evening. The mood at dinner was light and casual as everyone was feeling better about the promise of meat soon. Even Sara was excited.

Again, after darkness fell, everyone filed into the raft for a rather uncomfortable sleep.

Except tonight felt different to Sara. For some odd reason, she could not seem to fall asleep. Instead she lay looking up at the stars. In truth they really were beautiful and they looked so clear and bright compared to home. Home. It seemed like a distant memory, like an obscure fantasy-

His reverie was interrupted as one of her six companions- Nick, by the look of the faint outline in the dark, carefully got out of the raft and made his way to the dying embers of the fire. She watched him as his outline became clearer in the dull fire light. He just sat, adding more twigs and smaller sticks to the flame, until he seemed satisfied enough to sit in the sand, looking up at the heavens. Sara wondered if he did this every night. She watched him for a moment before she decided to follow suit and go sit by him. He looked up as he heard her approach.

"Hey, I didn't wake you, did I?" he whispered. She shook her head.

"No. I couldn't sleep," she responded softly, "Do you do this every night?" she asked, sitting beside him.

"Yeah," was the soft reply she received. She cocked an eyebrow.

"When do you sleep?"

"When I fall asleep," he answered, then realizing what an unsatisfying answer that was, he added, "Lately I've been having trouble sleeping. The fire seems to help."

She could see what he meant. The flickering flame was almost hypnotising and the heat served as a blanket.

"The plane crash?" she asked. He shook his head and smiled bitterly.

"Before that," he answered. She nodded, knowing enough not to push him. Then he laughed softly.

"This is crazy," he whispered, laughing, "My remedy for nightmares is to crash a plane in the ocean, almost die it the Atlantic, exhaust myself paddling to a god-forsaken island, live off of salad…oh and don't forget- stare at a frickin' camp fire."

"Nick-"

"Sara, we're…" he broke off, not willing to speak of their doom. Somehow during his rant, he had rose and paced around the fire.

"Nick…we're not…we're doing okay," Sara said, slightly shaken. She had never seen him act this way…he was always the optimist.

"For how long?" he asked, his voice strained. She bit her lip.

"I don't know, Nick."

Then she did something she had done only once before, after he was released from the hospital after being buried alive; she hugged him. They stood like this for a moment, before breaking the contact and sitting back in the sand.

"Sara?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

Of the four CSIs in the raft, Warrick was the first to get up the next morning. After washing his hands and face, he made his way to tend to the fire, yet along with the dead embers, he found two of his friends fast asleep in each others arms.

"Well, I'll be damned," he said softly, a smile playing on his lips.

"What are you staring at?" Greg asked, coming up behind him. Warrick put a finger to his lips and pointed to Nick and Sara.

"Ain't they cute?" Warrick asked in a baby voice. Greg snickered.

"Nick and Sara sitting in a tree…" just as Greg's little chant got started, Nick opened up his eyes.

"What?" he asked groggily. Warrick smirked.

"So, uh, what happened last night?" he asked. Nick looked confused until he felt movement in his arms. Looking down, Nick saw Sara opening up her eyes.

"What's goin' on?" she asked.

"K-I-S-S-I-N-G!" Greg sang. Sara saw her position and turned beat red, matching her companion.

"Err…Nick?" she asked softly.

"Umm…sorry Sar," he mumbled.

"First comes love…" Greg continued.

"Then comes marriage…" Warrick joined in.

"Then comes Nick and Sara pushing a baby carriage!" Now both of them were laughing.

"It's not what it looks like!" Nick protested, but to no avail.

"Don't worry man. We totally understand," Warrick smirked, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Nothing happened," Sara retorted, looking unimpressed.

"Whatever you say," Greg replied still laughing. Sara punched him on the arm and made her way to the beach to clean up. Nick joined her. By the time they were washed up, Grissom and Catherine had woken up…and heard of Nick and Sara's night.

"Well at least you guys left the raft," Catherine quipped.

"Nothing happened!" Nick responded, "We just slept with each other…I mean, no…we fell asleep together!"

"Alright children," Grissom said with finality, "We need more water…any takers?"

"I'll go," Warrick volunteered at the same time as Nick, Greg, and Sara. Grissom quirked an eyebrow and shrugged his shoulders. At the same time all four bounded into the forest.

"You know," Catherine mused, sitting by the fire, "It worries me when it takes all four of them to fetch a couple coconut shells full of water." Grissom shrugged again.

"Well there's not much to do around here," he said simply.

"Ain't that the truth," she agreed. That familiar silence fell between them once more.

"So how come it takes four of us to get water?" Sara asked as they made their way to the stream.

"Well I originally volunteered at the same time as you and then Nick wanted to uh," Warrick paused after he caught the death glare from his friend, "and then Greg joined us."

"I didn't-" he paused as a coughs racked his body, "I didn't want to be left out," he finally finished.

"Greg, are you sure you're okay?" Nick asked.

"Fine," and with that Greg bounded in front of the little procession. After this the conversation was ceased as they arrived at the stream and got the water. Warrick had moved to the head of the pack.

"Where are you leading us, man?" Nick asked as Warrick took an unfamiliar turn.

"It's a shortcut," Warrick replied.

"If we get lost…" Sara started.

"Then we find our way to the ocean and walk down the beach until we find the camp," Warrick finished cheekily. She scowled at his back, while Nick smirked behind her. They took no notice of the unusually silent Greg.

Finally they burst through the last of the trees separating them from the beach. This patch of sand seemed different from the parts of the island they had seen thus far. There was something in the air that made the hairs on each criminalist back stand on end. Something oddly familiar…

Warrick took a few steps foreword, waving the flies away from his face.

"Is it just me or does this place give you the creeps too?" Greg spoke up, looking around.

"Definitely creepy," Sara agreed.

"Guys!" Nick called.

"What?" Warrick asked.

"You might want to take a look at this," Nick said as they approached.

All four criminalists looked down to see an all too familiar site.

TBC

AN: perfect place for a cliffy...don't worry next chapter won't take as long...i hope


	8. What Happened at 2 Very Different Scenes

Author's note: I thought i ought to get this chapter up quick. Even though it is short, it works here. Sorry in advance for the cliffhanger.

Spoilers: I will generally tell what spoilers the chapters contain. In this Chapter: slight Harvest

Summary: When Ecklie chooses Grissom's team to head to a conference in London, the Las Vegas CSI nightshift couldn't be more excited. Then their plane crashes in the sea. Now Grissom, Catherine, Nick, Warrick, Sara, and Greg are stranded on a deserted island and their only way home is to survive.

Disclaimer: I don't own CSI.

Surviving the Storm

Chapter 8: What Happened at Two Very Different Scenes

Jim Brass looked up from the all too familiar sight of a nameless DB to the Denali rolling to a stop a few feet away from the crime scene tape. He straightened as Conrad Ecklie and five other people exited the vehicle and walked up to him. As they got closer, Jim saw only one familiar face while the others were complete strangers.

"Brass, you know Todd Voles, from dayshift. He's going to be taking over the nightshift," Ecklie said cutting the small talk, and then he pointed to the group behind him, "This is Paul Sholtz, Samantha Ray, Chris Marez, Linda Craig, and Pete Ellis. They're crime scene investigators that the sheriff and I have called in to help with the backload of cases."

This was all that was said and Ecklie turned and walked away.

"Nice to meet you, Captain Brass," Sholtz said, stepping forward and offering a hand. The detective shook it a little hesitantly. To Brass, this felt like a shock into reality. The appearance of these six criminalists- on the turf of the previous six- cemented the fact that Grissom and his team were never going to come back.

"Nice to meet you all," Brass choked out, shaking hands. After all introductions were made, the six criminalists got to work. Brass noticed, in spite of himself, that Voles had to verbally tell his new team what tasks to do, while Grissom had never spoken an order to his team and they knew their roles.

For the rest of the night, Brass found himself constantly comparing the new CSIs to Grissom and his team. There was little of the dark humour and charm that Grissom brought to the scene. Brass found he had little trust in this new team, though he had worked with Voles before. He knew it would take time for him to adjust to these changes. He still half-expected to see Nick and Warrick joking and laughing together and then both becoming serious and work-minded as they went under the tape. He still pictured Sara crossing the tape with Greg at her heels. He had come to expect the no-nonsense attitude of Catherine's when she was surveying a dead body or talking to bystanders. He couldn't quite grasp the fact that they were gone.

"Okay. The shooter would have had to stand here," Ellis said, bringing Brass from his thoughts, "shot the vic…Bang! And probably left the scene on a bike or something to that effect."

Brass winced. That was a theory, something that Gil Grissom would never allow a member of his team utter until all of the evidence was in. Voles simply nodded in acceptance.

"Jesus, Gil. Look what you've left me to contend with," Brass muttered under his breath, looking up towards the heavens.

Gil, however, had his own problems to contend with.

"Catherine, how long does it usually take to get water?" he asked, nibbling on a piece of coconut.

"Are we talking regular time or Nick, Greg, Warrick, and Sara time?" she replied cheekily.

"They really should've been back by now," Grissom stated, looking warily towards the trees. Catherine smiled.

"Why Gil Grissom, if I didn't know any better I'd say that you're worried," she quipped.

"Just hungry," he replied, and yet he felt a twinge of unease settle in his stomach. Catherine's familiar expression didn't help this feeling. Her mouth was curved in a small half-smile, but her eyes held the same concern that he had seen when Lindsey was picked up for hitch-hiking.

"Do you want to go look for them?" she asked, staring at the trees.

"It probably might be best. Lord only knows what they're up too," he answered, starting towards the trees with Catherine at his side.

Nick, Sara, Warrick, and Greg stood in shock and amazement as they looked at the ground in front of them.

"How the hell-" Warrick started. He knelt down to get a closer look. The creamy white of the human skull was crawling with insects still looking for flesh. The body was nothing more then a pile of clothes, black shirt, black jeans, and a heavy leather jacket. Upon further inspection, Warrick could see a bullet hole in the shirt and a cracked rib from the impact.

"I've got a shell casing," Sara called, staring at a small glint of gold in the sand, "Possibly a .22."

"Makes sense. The Vic was shot," Warrick informed them.

"How long do you think he's been here?" Greg asked.

"From the looks of it, not much longer than us," Nick said, walking along the beach looking for impressions. There was no way he could have found anything useable. The weather had seen to that. Warrick reached into the victim's pocket and found nothing.

"No wallet. Robbery could have been a motive," he announced. All around him the other criminalists responded and became absorbed in their new crime scene.

"Hey! What about Grissom and Catherine?" Greg voiced out. The others paused.

"You should go back and tell them about this, kay, Greggo?" Nick suggested.

"Why me?" he asked.

"Cause you voiced it out, bro," Warrick said smirking. Greg glared at him and stalked back through the trees.

Grissom and Catherine arrived at the banks of the stream to find absolutely no one.

"Do you think they got lost?" Catherine asked, looking around.

"Not if they stuck to the trail," Grissom responded, looking along the ground.

"What are you looking for?" she asked, following his gaze. He pointed to an imprint in the low underbrush.

"Shall we?" he asked, leading the way. She followed and as she stepped along the path, she felt a shiver rack her body and she couldn't shake the feeling that something boded ill.

Greg didn't know where he was going. He just knew that he wanted to get back to Grissom and Catherine so he could go back to the crime scene. His body just wasn't cooperating. For the second time on his little venture back to Grissom and Catherine, he had to stop to allow a coughing fit to pass. He shook it off. Man, was he going to get Warrick for this. He took a few more steps and started to jog through the trees. Soon he had to stop again. He leaned up against a tree as he coughed again. Once it stopped, he panted in exhaustion and soon he had slid down the tree into a sitting position and vomited in the grass. Then the trees started to spin.

Grissom and Catherine had walked down the narrow pathway for about fifteen minutes before they heard voices. 

"What do you think he was even doing out here?" they heard Sara ask.

"I dunno," Warrick answered.

"Well, it's definitely not my idea of a vacation," Nick said. Finally after a little more walking, Catherine and Grissom saw beach and Nick, Sara, and Warrick.

"What's going on here? You guys were supposed to get water a long time ago!" Grissom scolded as he and Catherine broke through the barrier of plant growth separating them from the beach.

"We…uh…got side-tracked," Sara muttered sheepishly, gesturing from a spot in the sand. They saw the body.

"What have you got?" Grissom asked, work-mode setting in.

"Male D.B, no I.D, no cash, and what looks like a single gunshot wound to the chest. There's a cartridge casing by Sara. It looks like a .22 calibre," Warrick explained.

"No footprints or anything like that," Nick added.

"How the hell did he get here?" Catherine asked, kneeling beside Warrick.

"Boat, plane…" Grissom trailed off. For a few moments, they all surveyed the corpse.

"What are we going to do about this evidence?" Catherine finally asked. They all drew a blank.

"Well, it's either collect it or lose it," Grissom sighed. The other four nodded in agreement and began to process the scene.

"So did Greg stay back at camp?" Sara asked as she did a walkthrough of the beach.

"Greg? Where is he?" Catherine asked.

"We sent him to get you," Warrick said, looking at his supervisor and Catherine.

"He never got us. We came looking when you guys took so long," Grissom responded, a line ceasing his brow.

"Well where is he?" Nick asked. The all didn't know.

"Alright, before we process this, we have to find Greg," Grissom voiced.

"He was coughing a lot. Do you think he's okay?" Sara asked.

"He's been looking paler than usual," Catherine said, worry evident in her voice.

"Okay. Nick, Warrick, you two go along the beach back to camp. If he's not there, make your way to the river. Sara, Catherine, and I will go through the bush and meet you there. Even if you find Greg, have someone meet us at the stream," Grissom ordered. Then without a word, he started back through the trees. The women bounded after him, while the guys made there way along the beach.

TBC


	9. The Search Parties

Author's note: HAHA! SUCCESS! LoL...sorry...but the deal is i just got my old computer back (it has no internet) so i was trying to figure out how i could get this lovely little chapter onto my newer computer. Anyhow...i figured it out! (stuff in italics is Greg's hallucination) Now on with the show...

Spoilers: I will generally tell what spoilers the chapters contain. In this Chapter: Just that stupendously horrific excuse of a finale for season 6: Way to Go (just greg's bit about Brass in a Sweater)

Summary: When Ecklie chooses Grissom's team to head to a conference in London, the Las Vegas CSI nightshift couldn't be more excited. Then their plane crashes in the sea. Now Grissom, Catherine, Nick, Warrick, Sara, and Greg are stranded on a deserted island and their only way home is to survive.

Disclaimer: I don't own CSI.

Surviving the Storm

Chapter 9: The Search Parties

Nick and Warrick ran along the beach, urgently calling Greg's name. They stumbled along the rocky shoreline, which was so different then their own peaceful beach. Then they slowed their pace to a quick walk. A few minutes later, they started running again. They repeated this pattern until, the rocks finally gave way to sand, making it easier for them to run. After a half hour of this solid rhythm, they saw a familiar site: their camp.

"GREG!" Nick shouted once he had caught his breath. The only noise was Warrick's heavy breathing beside him.

"GREG!" Nick called again. Still, there was no answer.

"He's not here, man," Warrick breathed beside him, "Damn it! He's not here!" he repeated, kicking a log. Nick looked even more agitated.

"Maybe he's at the river-" he started.

"Maybe, Maybe, Maybe," Warrick hissed, "I'm sick of all the damn maybes! Maybe if one of us had gone instead of Greg, he wouldn't be gone! Maybe if our pilot hadn't crashed in the ocean, we'd be home! Maybe if Ecklie hadn't of wanted to get rid of us for a week, we never would've been on that stupid plane!"

"What is the matter with you?" Nick asked, looking at his friend incredulously.

"Are you blind, Nick? Look around! Greg's missing, we got little food, little water, and if it hasn't escaped you, we are marooned of a godforsaken spit of land!" Warrick shouted, kicking a coconut down the beach.

"Calm down, Warrick," Nick said, fighting to keep his voice in control.

"Yeah, Nick, pretend everything's okay! That's all you're good at!" Warrick shot at him.

"What the Hell did I ever do to you?" Nick scowled.

"Whatever!" Warrick said, stalking away from him, striking down the makeshift doorway standing upright in the sound.

"Do you think destroying our camp is going to find Greg?" Nick called in disgust. Warrick turned.

"At least I'm not just standing there!" he yelled, kicking sand at Nick.

"COOL IT!" Nick yelled back, shoving Warrick. Warrick shoved back and soon they were in the middle of an all out brawl.

After Nick and Warrick had taken off, Grissom, Catherine, and Sara decided to trek through the forest with a fine-toothed come in attempt to locate Greg. They each stood arms-length away from each other and walked through the bush, trying to find some trace of what happened to Greg. They walked as quick as they could through the low underbrush but that was still too slow for Catherine. Every so often, they would call out Greg's name, in hopes that he would hear him.

Soon the trio ventured into familiar territory around the river. Camp wasn't too far away.

"He's not here!" Catherine moaned, putting her head in her hands.

"We'll find him," Grissom said softly, the worried expression never leaving his face.

"This is all my fault- If I had gone instead of Greg-" Sara stammered, collapsing on the grass.

"It's nobody's fault," Catherine said, kneeling down.

"But if I-"

"Catherine is right, Sara. None of us could've known what was going to happen," Grissom added, though he was not convinced. He was the leader. He had noticed Greg's coughs, but every time Grissom had tried to talk sense to the younger man, Greg would dismiss him. If only I had forced Greg to rest… Grissom thought miserably.

"COOL IT!"

"What was that?" Catherine asked, staring from the direction that the voice came from.

"It sounded like Nick," Sara said softly. Grissom motioned for them to follow as he jogged through the trees back to their camp. When they got there, however, they were not prepared for what they saw.

Nick and Warrick were rolling in the sand, each getting their blows in as their tempers soared. Both of them tried to get one up on the other, but it proved to be impossible. Both of them were equally fit and both were not going to let the other have the upper hand.

"NICK! WARRICK!" Grissom shouted, trying to get in between the two of them. In the process he received a nasty blow to his right eye, from whom, he did not know, nor did he care. Finally he separated them, but both Nick and Warrick were still too angry to just stop. Warrick started forward to be blocked by Grissom, as Catherine and Sara were holding Nick back.

"STOP IT!" Grissom shouted again, pushing Warrick back further.

"What the Hell is wrong with you two?" Catherine cried, looking between them.

"Nick! Stop!" Sara grunted, as she attempted to restrain him for he had tried to double around her and Catherine.

"THAT'S ENOUGH!" Grissom yelled again, "Both of you, enough!"

"Fighting amongst ourselves isn't going to find Greg!" Catherine scolded. This fact seemed to quell their tempers.

"What's going on here?" Grissom asked roughly, squinting at the pair. His eye was already starting to blacken. Warrick and Nick stared at each other for a moment, and then both averted their eyes, thinking of the foolishness of their fight.

"It was nothing Griss," Nick muttered, sheepishly.

"It sure didn't look like nothing," Sara commented.

"I lost my temper. We got into an argument. I'm sorry, Nick," Warrick said, with his eyes still averted.

"Ah, it's okay. I'm sorry I shoved you," Nick said in the same voice.

"That will do," Grissom said, his eyes steely blue, "I take it no one found Greg?" he asked changing the topic.

"No. He wasn't in the trees?" Warrick asked.

"Not when we went through, but he's probably in there," Sara said worriedly.

"Let's go," Grissom said gruffly, already several steps in front of the troupe. They let their troubles rest as they bounded after him.

_There was a buzzing and whirling of several machines humming in the darkness. He looked around, but all he could see was blackness. He took a shaky step and the dark world dissolved into a dark alley. He took another step and a bloody corpse appeared along with a police officer, puking his guts out. He winced at the image, and stumbled towards the body. Detective Jim Brass came into view, except Brass was not looking at the body, but at a map. And he was wearing a sweater. How peculiar. Another step and Grissom and Catherine appeared. He took two more steps towards them and Warrick, Nick, and Sara appeared, all five of them looking pale and tattered._

"_What's the case, Jim?" Grissom asked, walking up to the detective's side with the others at his heels._

"_Terrible, Gil. Terrible," Brass said, never looking up from the map. Catherine walked to the body._

"_He was supposed to come back to us? Why did he go alone?" she asked, putting on her latex gloves._

"_He said he could handle it. He said it was an allergy," Warrick said from behind her._

"_We need to look for evidence in 'Jaws' and 'A Walk to Remember'" Nick added._

"_Nick and I will look by the fire," Sara volunteered._

"_We should get him to the morgue, right David?" Grissom said to the newly appeared David Phillips. Another step was taken and the secluded alley became a cold, white morgue. Doc Robbins stood over a gleaming white skeleton lying on a pile of sand. Grissom walked in._

"_Was it the crash?" he asked the good doctor._

"_Perhaps, but it could've been the cold salt water," Robbins said._

"_Could he have been malnourished?" Grissom asked._

"_It's possible. It could have been dehydration. He is bone dry," Robbins replied. Both he and Grissom laughed at the pun._

"_This looks fatal," Grissom commented as a gaping hole appeared in the skeleton._

"_My best guess? A .22," Robbins shrugged. That was not Robbins's voice. That was Nick's._

"_I'll get this to the lab," Grissom said. A step later and the buzzing and whirring of machines were louder. Glass lined cubicles protected lab workers and their equipment. From somewhere, Marilyn Manson was blaring._

"_Greg!" that was Catherine._

"_Greg!" that was Nick._

"_Greg!" Warrick too._

"_Greg!" Sara as well._

"_GREG!" Grissom. Now he was in for it._

"GREG!" Grissom bellowed through the forest. Darkness was nearing and they still hadn't found him. As much as Grissom's head pounded, he would not give up until they found Greg.

"GIL! GIL! OVER HERE!" Catherine shouted, breaking the line and stumbling through the low underbrush. She reached her destination in record time. She only paused for a second to take in what she saw. Greg was lying half slumped against a tree; his head had dropped to hit a rock. A small cut was visible. A pool of vomit beside him polluted the air with its putrid smell. His lips looked dry, yet there was bile oozing out of his mouth. His breathing was labored. She rushed to his side and supported his head. He was burning up.

"We need to get him back to camp!" Grissom said sharply, "Nick, Warrick!"

They moved to carry Greg with Grissom, Catherine, and Sara trailing behind.

When they arrived back to the camp, they placed Greg in the raft. They used a shirt as a makeshift pillow and a few others as blankets. Sara used a sleeve of hers to wet in the ocean to wet Greg down. They made quick work of his cut with the limited first aid supplies they acquired from the survival pack. Nothing more could be done.

"Alright. At least one of us has to stay with Greg at all times. I'll take the first shift," Grissom said shortly. That night the mood was very somber at the beach. There were no jokes around the fire, or the Movie Game. Nick, Warrick, and Sara just sat and ate dinner by the fire. There was no talking. Catherine got up with two plates and walked towards the edge of the raft, where Gil was watching over Greg.

"I got you supper," she said handing his plate to him and sat beside him with her own.

"Thanks," he said hollowly.

"Well, I can't let you starve. Lindsey would kill me," she said with a small smile. He looked up in recognition.

"Thanks, Cath," he said again. She gently rubbed his arm. He flinched at her touch.

"Gil, it wasn't your fault," she said softly.

"Yes, it is. I should've known-" his voice broke.

"None of us knew. We all thought the island was having an effect on him," she gently disputed him.

"But I should have," Grissom choked out. He was glad darkness had crept in on them, for she could not see that there were unshed tears of frustration in his eyes.

"Me too, Gil. Me too," she sounded as terrible as he felt. She moved to hug him and she was a little astounded when he did not protest. They stayed like this for a moment.

"Nice shiner," she said softly against his chest, causing a small chuckle to escape him as he watched Greg's chest rise and fall over her shoulder.

TBC


	10. Worries

Author's note: Kinda short, but hey, two chapters in a row? that's somethin for me. lol7

Spoilers: I will generally tell what spoilers the chapters contain. In this Chapter: Pledging Mr. Johnson

Summary: When Ecklie chooses Grissom's team to head to a conference in London, the Las Vegas CSI nightshift couldn't be more excited. Then their plane crashes in the sea. Now Grissom, Catherine, Nick, Warrick, Sara, and Greg are stranded on a deserted island and their only way home is to survive.

Disclaimer: I don't own CSI.

Surviving the Storm

Chapter 10: Worries

The sun had just rose in the sky as Sara dabbed Greg's forehead with a wet cloth. His condition had worsened considerably. His pale skin was shiny with perspiration and he had begun to mumble incoherently in his sleep. Vomit leaked out of his mouth every so often, at which he would splutter and one of his companions would turn him on his side so he wouldn't choke.

"How is he?" Nick asked as he approached her and squatted down. Sara shook her head.

"About the same as before," she sighed sadly.

"Warrick and I were talking. We're going to try to get the shelter finished ASAP. It would give Greg some protection from the sun," Nick explained. Sara nodded.

"One of us stays with Greg and the rest work on the shelter, right?" she said, fully comprehending what the plan was. Nick nodded.

"It's my turn, you know. Go get some rest before work," he prodded gently. She smiled gratefully at him and went to grab some breakfast. Nick just stared at Greg's pale face, wishing that he would wake up.

Grissom, Catherine, Sara, and Warrick worked on the shelter for most of the day, only stopping for meals. At noon, Warrick relieved Nick. They stopped for supper and then it was Grissom's turn to look over Greg. This became their new routine, even though the mood was just as sombre as when they brought Greg back to camp.

Hardly a word was spoken the next day amongst the workers. True as it was, the CSIs had always done their best work in Las Vegas when they let each other have their space. The castaways on the island, however, were having trouble with this lack of communication.

"Cath, could you hand me that?" Grissom asked, trying to balance one of the walls.

"Give you what?" Catherine asked.

"Catherine!" he groaned as he let the wall fall to the sand.

"What? What did you want?" she asked again.

"That rock to pound the wall in! I asked you for it!" he cried pointing to a good-size rock lying in the sand.

"No, you asked me for 'that' not 'the rock'," she argued, "How in the Hell was I supposed to know that's what you wanted?"

"Hmm…maybe you saw me struggling with that pile of sticks," he shot back. His voice was tinged with cold on this hot day. She glared at him, deciding not to take his bullshit.

"Well then, you can continue to struggle with them on your own!" she shouted, looking mutinous as she said it. With that she stormed over to where Warrick was looking over Greg and told him to go help the others. She sat for a moment, dabbing Greg's face with a cloth.

"Why are we fighting over a rock?" Gil asked, and she was surprised to see him standing there. Looking up at his face, she saw he was just as perplexed as she was.

"I don't know," she replied, trying to ponder why they were arguing over something so trivial. She gave up and then laughed bitterly.

"What?" he asked, confused by her strange behaviour.

"Look at us. We're a mess. In all the years we've known each other, we've maybe have about…oh, I dunno…four or five fights like this and now we're arguing over a rock," she explained bitterly. He saw her point.

"You're right, Cath," he said softly, "But we've always made up after every fight. Why should this be any different? Truce?" he asked, offering her a hand. She smiled at him, remembering after one particular quarrel, he had asked her that same question.

"I would love that," she replied, taking his hand, "Gil, what's going to happen?" she asked in a whisper after a moment of silence.

"What do you mean?" he asked just as softly.

"What's going to happen if the worst should happen?" she asked again. He swallowed.

"I don't know," he replied, getting more and more used to saying those words.

"Hardly a word has been spoken the past two days. Greg's just sick now and already we've all become distant with each other. You and I were fighting over a rock. I'm worried, Gil. I'm worried about Greg, about Nick, Sara, and Warrick, and…and about us," she confessed. The fact that the Catherine Willows he knew was confessing her fears and worries made him consider the validation of her concerns.

"You're worried we all won't make it," he stated. No, he was worried they all wouldn't make it.

"I'm scared, Gil," she admitted.

"Me too, Catherine. Me too," he revealed. They looked at each other and put on a brave smile just for the other. They sat in silence for a moment, which was only broken when they heard Greg splutter. Vomit was leaking from his mouth. Catherine jumped up and quickly turned him on his side so he wouldn't choke. Gil moved to dab his head with a cloth. The fit subsided and Greg fell back into his sleep, more pale and breathing harder.

"What's going on?" Warrick asked as he, Nick, and Sara rushed up from the beach.

"He's getting worse," Catherine replied, gently dabbing at Greg's forehead.

"If he keeps getting sick, he'll be more and more dehydrated," Gil said.

"Isn't there any way we can get water into him?" Sara asked.

"It might help him get some strength back," Nick agreed. Gil seemed lost in thought for a moment until a solution came to him.

"Somebody go grab a shell full of fresh water. Some of us will have to support Greg in a sitting position. Then we'll pour a little bit in his mouth and see what happens," he explained. While Sara ran to get the water, Nick and Warrick held Greg in a sitting position and Gil and Catherine gently tried to coax Greg out of his slumber.

"Come on, Greg. Wake up," Catherine said, gently shaking his shoulder.

"This will help, Greg. Just wake up now," Gil tried, also nudging him. There was a moan in reply. That was good enough. Grissom took the shell of water from Sara and carefully tipped a small amount into Greg's mouth. Greg swallowed and did not splutter. Grissom poured again, and again, Greg swallowed. Grissom was able to do this two more times before Greg began to splutter. They then lay Greg back down so he could get some rest.

"It worked," Warrick said, "At least we know he has some control over his own reflexes. We should try to do that often."

"Every hour would do," Grissom agreed. Soon giving Greg water had become easy enough for two people to do. Everyone became accustomed to this delicate procedure to know what they were doing. Every hour Greg's caretaker would call one of the others from shelter building to help with the water.

"Do you realize how much Greg would love all of this attention?" Catherine asked later that night at dinner. They had decided to eat by the raft tonight.

"He'd be all over it," Nick agreed affectionately.

"Remember how it used to take him a good five minutes to give us our DNA results just because he wanted to make a presentation?" Warrick reminisced, a small smile playing on his features.

"How often did he have that stereo of his blaring through the lab?" Grissom chimed in.

"Too often," Catherine agreed. They shared a small laugh.

"His hair is so flat," Sara commented, looking over at Greg's pale face with watery eyes. When Greg had been new to the field, he and Sara had always been paired up, not that either of them minded. Greg had wanted to learn and in the process, he managed to pull Sara's head just up out of the microscope. Nick placed an arm across her shoulders and the rest just sat in silence. Darkness came and they all fell asleep near the raft, except for Grissom, who kept one eye on Greg, and one on the sleeping forms of the rest.

TBC


	11. OUR Responsibilities

Author's note: i'm hopin to get another chapter up before school in the fall. cross ur fingers.

Spoilers: I will generally tell what spoilers the chapters contain. In this Chapter: none

Summary: When Ecklie chooses Grissom's team to head to a conference in London, the Las Vegas CSI nightshift couldn't be more excited. Then their plane crashes in the sea. Now Grissom, Catherine, Nick, Warrick, Sara, and Greg are stranded on a deserted island and their only way home is to survive.

Disclaimer: I don't own CSI.

Surviving the Storm

Chapter 11: OUR Responsibilities 

"Good news," Warrick announced to Nick the next day.

"What's up?" Nick asked, biting into a banana.

"We're almost finished with the shelter," Warrick replied, smiling slightly. He sat down by the raft, ready to take his shift.

"That's great!" Nick exclaimed, "What else needs to be done?"

"We just need to put one more wall in the sand and then the roof," Warrick explained. Nick grinned.

"Finally! We've been working on it for ages!" he said, looking over to where Catherine, Sara, and Grissom were standing around, talking.

"You'd better get over there, bro, or you're gonna miss the plan," Warrick told him. Nick grinned.

"Would this be better or worse than missing assignments back home?" he asked. They shared a laugh and then Nick ran down the beach. Grissom always gave them a hard time at home when they missed the assignments, and apparently he hadn't lost that quality when they were marooned on the island.

"Nick, do you want to help me with this wall?" Grissom asked as he approached. So he wasn't as late as he thought.

"Sure thing, Griss," he replied cheerfully. They both tilted the wall of sticks up and held it steady as Catherine and Sara pounded it in with rocks. Nick was vaguely wondering if they discussed this before or if Catherine knew what Grissom needed this time around. If Nick was a betting man, he would have placed a considerably large sum on the latter. After Catherine and Sara could beat the wall down no farther, Grissom and Nick took over to even out the walls. After they secured this wall to the others by vines.

"Nicely done, guys," Sara panted. The four of them surveyed their handiwork. They placed the shelter in a spot heavily shaded by trees to at least attempt to keep it cool in the day. It wasn't far from the fire, but it was far enough away that it wouldn't pick up any stray sparks. As of right now, it looked like a box without a roof, except there was a space to use as a doorway.

"Hey, you guys," Catherine started, looking deep in thought, "How are we going to get Greg and the raft into there?" The other three looked at the problem. The doorway was too small to fit a raft and everybody had to duck slightly under the top.

"Over the top?" Nick suggested, "We could take Greg out and hoist the raft over the walls before we put the roof on."

"Good idea, Nick," Grissom praised. They went over to Warrick and explained their plan. Then he and Nick hoisted Greg out of the raft and gently set him down on the leaves.

"What now?" Warrick asked. Grissom shrugged.

"Nick? This is your idea," he said. This reminded each CSI of when Grissom would relinquish power to allow them free reign in a case. Nick paused for a moment before he answered.

"Three of us could lift the raft over and two of us can catch it on the inside," he directed. Nick, Warrick, and Sara took their positions on the outside. Catherine and Gil went inside. It took Nick, Warrick, and Sara a couple of minutes to manuver the raft, but they managed. The wall shook a little as the bottom of the raft hit it, but other then that, the plan went without a hitch.

"Way to go!" Sara cheered.

"Nice job, you guys," Catherine praised, but she was looking at Nick in particular.

"Good idea, Nick," Warrick commented. They were all smiles, until they heard a horrible gurgling noise.

"Greg!" Catherine exclaimed running over to where he lay in the leaves. The rest were on her heels. She quickly turned him over onto his side, where vomit oozed from his mouth. He continued to cough.

"Shit! We should have never left him alone!" Nick cried, angry at himself.

"Nick, go get some water," Grissom ordered firmly. The younger man obeyed, while Sara supported Greg's head. As Greg retched some more, Grissom was struck by how much the movement looked like bobbing one's head to music. Grissom swallowed hard and knelt down to help, taking the wet cloth from Warrick.

"Griss, you okay?" Warrick asked, swearing he saw fear and pain flash across Grissom's eyes. Gil nodded.

"Why wouldn't I be?" he responded, turning his full attention on Greg.

"He seems to be calming down," Sara said, "Greg! Greg can you hear me?" there was no response, but as she said, he was indeed calming down. He stopped heaving and while his breathing was heavy, he seemed to have fell back into his slumber.

"Do you think he's alright?" Warrick asked. Catherine felt for a temperature. She cringed.

"He's really warm," she announced. Nick had got back with the water by this time and now Catherine was carefully examining the cut over Greg's eye. It wasn't infected, thankfully, so she let Sara re-bandage it, while she jogged to catch up with Grissom, who was making his way over to the rocks. The three younger castaways stayed by Greg.

"I should have known better!" Nick exclaimed, visibly upset. He wasn't sure how much his blunder had hurt his friend and was scared that Greg had suffered more harm.

"No, Nick, buddy, it could've happened to any of us," Warrick said softly, "One of us should have realized we needed to watch Greg. It's not your fault, man."

"Look at him, Nick. He seems fine," Sara tried.

"But what if he's not? If something happens to him…" Nick trailed off, distraught.

"You know Greg wouldn't give up that easily. He's spunky," Warrick said, looking down at the pale man with an affectionate expression on his face.

"Plus he'd kick your ass if he knew you were beating yourself up over one little mistake. Try to, at least," Sara added, causing a weak smile to form on Nick's face. While he felt a little better about himself, someone else was in need of some convincing.

"Gil, are you okay?" Catherine asked her friend as they sat on the rocks together. He nodded and then shook his head immediately after. She looked sympathetically at him.

"He's back asleep now. He's okay," she said, not believing her own words.

"Cath, he won't be okay again until he's back in the break-room, listening to that punk rock," he choked out, "I want to go home, Catherine."

"I know, Gil. I wish we were home right now, too," she agreed, gently stroking his arm with her hand. Somehow it made him calm down a bit and when he spoke, he sounded closer to normal then he had been before.

"I miss Las Vegas. I miss the lab and everybody, even Ecklie. I miss my hermetically sealed townhouse and my advanced crossword puzzles and my bugs," he admitted, though he wasn't sure why he was telling her this or why he was using her terms for describing his life, "Everything seemed so much simpler."

"I was wondering when you were gonna join the rest of us in our self-pity," she said, smiling ruefully. They had all had their breakdowns about home. Catherine couldn't help but think about what she was missing in her daughter's life. One night Warrick had vowed he would never complain about his wife's cooking again and then he went for a long walk alone. Sara would get antsy and refused to talk to anyone when some one wondered what was going on back in the lab. Nick had reminisced so frequently about camping with his family that he actually broke down. And, although he couldn't show it now, Greg had been so frustrated when he couldn't remember the words to his favourite song. It seemed for a while, at least, that Grissom never joined them in their own personal sorrows.

"You're not going to tell anybody, are you?" he asked. She grinned.

"Your secret is safe with me," she said. He laughed and then stopped.

"Catherine, if we don't get out of this alive, you're all my responsibility and I will have failed you all," he said seriously.

"Our," she corrected.

"Our?" he asked curiously.

"Our responsibility. I'm the co-supervisor, remember?" she quipped. They looked at each other for a moment, only to be interrupted by Nick and Warrick calling them to help with the roof.

The shelter was finally finished later that day. The roof had been constructed by securing sticks into notches at the top of the walls and then draping it with several palm tree leaves. It provided good protection from the sun, yet everybody had to duck inside. Warrick christened it "The Fire Trap." Before darkness fell on the island, each castaway had made a small bed of leaves to sleep in. It wasn't much, but at least it was better than sleeping on the hard ground. One would have expected sleep to come easily to them after the hard labour they put into creating this tiny spec of civilization on the island, but as it was, conversation only ceased when Catherine ended the day with:

"This feels like the Family Robinson. I wish the kids would shut up so I could get some rest."

Then with a slight chuckle from Grissom and a couple of cheeky remarks, four of the five of them consented to get to sleep, while the other remained vigilantly at Greg's side, feeling the responsibility to do so.

TBC


	12. Here Comes The Rain

Author's note: Wow, I just impressed myself lol. Thanks for the reviews, i appriciate it. Now, just so you know, there's no excuse for me not to update again before school starts. TTYL.

Spoilers: I will generally tell what spoilers the chapters contain. In this Chapter: none

Summary: When Ecklie chooses Grissom's team to head to a conference in London, the Las Vegas CSI nightshift couldn't be more excited. Then their plane crashes in the sea. Now Grissom, Catherine, Nick, Warrick, Sara, and Greg are stranded on a deserted island and their only way home is to survive.

Disclaimer: I don't own CSI.

Surviving the Storm

Chapter 12: Here Comes the Rain

For once, in all their time on the island, the castaways did not wake to a sunny sky. Instead grey clouds that looked very uninviting blocked the sun.

"Well, it's time to put the shelter to the test," Sara said as she stood with Grissom on the beach in the morning.

"Well, it didn't fall when the bottom of the raft clipped the top," Grissom replied, running a hand over his very unkempt beard.

"Hey, guys!" Warrick called from the fire, "Breakfast is ready!"

"I wonder how long before we get rained on," Sara wondered as they walked back up.

"Before lunch time," Grissom predicted. And he was right. No sooner did they sit down to eat around noon, they felt the first drops of rain. They moved inside the shelter with Greg just as it really started to come down.

"Well this sucks," Nick commented, sitting on the ground staring out the doorway at the splashing raindrops on the ground.

"At least we're dry," Catherine reminded him, leaning against the raft. The roof was indeed keeping them dry. Surprisingly, the water didn't leak through the palm leaves, but that could have been because they had piled so many on the previous day.

"I'm bored," Nick complained an hour later when the rain still hadn't let up.

"I think we all are," Sara said irritably.

"Take it easy there, sunshine," he shot back.

"Don't start," Catherine ordered. She had abandoned the raft and was now lying on her stomach on the ground, playing tic-tac-toe in the sand with Gil.

"We're all a chipper bunch today," Warrick said, rolling his eyes.

"We're just used to doing stuff all day and now we're restricted to sitting around looking at the rain," Grissom sighed as he and Catherine tied for the umpteenth time.

"Isn't there something we could be doing right now?" Nick asked, looking at the others.

"Not unless you want to get wet," Grissom replied, drawing another board in the sand.

"Go take a shower, Nicky," Sara suggested. He rolled his eyes and stayed put.

"Hey, Nick, think fast," Warrick said, throwing a small stone at his friend. Nick caught it and threw it back, sparking a game of catch. Sara rolled her eyes and contented herself by trying to sleep.

They stayed like this for a while. Warrick and Nick had perfected their stone throwing game so that neither could miss. Grissom and Catherine had long since abandoned their game and were talking quietly in the corner. Sara soon could no longer stand trying to sleep and joined Nick and Warrick. Every so often, someone would glace over a Greg to make sure he was okay. For a little while, it seemed the cooler weather was doing wonders for him. His breathing was still deep, but he perspired less. Water was given to him at regular intervals and he hardly spit up at all. This was short lived when he began to shiver. They put more rags around him for a little warmth, but it hardly did a thing. He was soon huddled in the fetal position and surrounded by the old clothes keeping him warm. To the delight of his castaways he uttered a single word: "C-cold."

They did not know whether this was in his sleep or not, but it gave them hope. They hoped that this one word meant that pretty soon they'd be hearing Greg's usual lame jokes or listening to his very bad singing voice. Catherine gently messed up his hair, affectionately.

The rain continued well into the night and they were all thankful that they had stowed food and water in the shelter before it rained. The only major downside to this moisture was that in made the night uncommonly cold.

"Reminds you of the desert nights," Warrick chattered.

"Only chillier," Sara agreed.

"Do you think we'd all be warmer in the raft with Greg?" Catherine asked overtop of the soft pounding of the rain on the palm leaves.

"Body heat," Nick agreed, his teeth chattering slightly. With that, they all awkwardly clamoured in the raft. Grissom, Catherine, and Warrick were to the left of Greg and Sara and Nick were to the right. After a few minutes, they warmed up enough to begin to doze off to sleep.

Catherine and Gil were the first ones up and were pleased to hear that the rain had stopped. After gently untangling themselves from the others, they headed down to the water's edge to wash up.

"It looks like we could get another storm today," Catherine commented, looking disappointedly at the sky. Another bout of greying clouds was coming their way.

"Cath, I can't express my joy," he sighed. She chuckled.

"Should we wake the kids before it starts?" she asked wading up to her knees in the clear water of the shallows.

"If we must," he complied, following her in the water. Neither was in a hurry to go back to the Fire Trap and wake the rest. Instead they rinsed the dirt and sand off themselves in an almost leisurely fashion.

"What I wouldn't give for a tooth brush right now," Catherine sighed.

"Or soap," he added.

"Or a razor," she quipped.

"I second that," he replied.

"Yeah, you are beginning to look a little scruffy," she agreed. He looked at her with an expression of mock-hurt.

"Now Catherine Willows, when do I ever comment on your current appearance? Or your very hairy legs?" he asked with a smile, knowing that would annoy her. He was right.

"Gil Grissom, I am going to kill you!" she cried, lunging for him. He didn't move quite fast enough to avoid her attack. Both of them fell into the water, her on top…before he flipped her over. She splashed him to get free and then she ran up the beach, laughing at him.

"Cath!" he shouted, laughingly, as he tore after her and grabbed her around the waist, sending them both down in the sand. Then they both lay there laughing like idiots.

"I didn't think you could catch me," she breathed, leaning against him.

"Living on an island for two weeks does wonders for your physical shape," he joked, getting to his feet and offering her a hand. She took it.

"What the heck is going on out here?" Sara's voice caused them both to look up the beach where they saw Nick, Sara, and Warrick standing outside the shelter, looking confused.

"She pushed me in the water," Gil tried to explain.

"He pushed me in the sand," Catherine ejected almost childishly.

"They've lost it!" Nick announced, turning to walk back inside the shelter.

"You guys are a mess," Warrick commented as he passed them on his way down to the water. Sara smirked as she followed him. They were indeed way dirtier than before. Gil looked up at the sky, a little embarrassed. Catherine chuckled.

"Truce?" she asked.

"Absolutely," he agreed. As they turned to walk back to the water, he whispered in her ear, "Thanks. I needed that." She looked at him perplexed, but only received a small smile. They bathed in silence and walked back up to the beach, allowing Nick to leave Greg and join Warrick and Sara in the water. Catherine stayed inside, where she could baby-sit Greg, while Gil checked the roof, adding leaves and little sticks. The clouds were getting closer now and they were bringing more food and water inside. Nick was also hording a small pile of sticks inside as well.

"What is that for?" Sara asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I can at least do something with sticks," he answered. She laughed at him.

"Planning ahead, are we?" she asked.

"You laugh now, but you wait," he said.

The castaways were forced back into their shelter around ten when the second storm hit. It was quite a bit worse than the previous one. There was more wind, which made its way into the Fire Trap, chilling the occupants and knocking a few leaves loose.

"Now this sucks," Catherine shivered, discretely moving closer to Gil.

"I hope that roof holds," Warrick prayed, looking up at the green underside.

"What, with our luck?" Sara asked wryly.

"Always a pessimist," Nick muttered, causing everybody but Sara to crack up. After a couple of hours, almost everybody had gone back to their devices of the previous day, except for Nick. Catherine and Gil were huddled together by the raft, talking quietly. Warrick and Sara were throwing a rock back and forth. Nick was digging.

"What on earth are you doing?" Catherine asked, looking at him like he had gone nuts.

"Digging," Nick replied innocently.

"Why?" Warrick asked.

"Somethin' to do," Nick shrugged. Sara raised an eyebrow.

"I thought you were going to play with your sticks," she stated.

"Changed my mind," he said, continuing to dig. Everybody stopped what he or she was doing to watch him.

"Wow and he said we were losing it," Catherine told Gil and they both laughed.

"That's because you are," Nick said, stopping his hole for a moment. They watched him for a few more minutes and by that time, he had dug a hole as tall as his knees and when he stood up, he didn't have to duck. They gaped at him.

"Nicky, you're a genius," Grissom commented. Nick beamed.

"I try," he quipped. Grissom then got on his hands and knees and began to help Nick.

"Alright, maybe you have lost it," Catherine said to Gil. He shrugged.

"If I keep on having to duck in here, I'm going have back problems," he replied simply.

"I second that," Warrick announced, getting down to help them. Catherine and Sara gaped at them.

"Where are they expecting to go, China?" Sara asked the older woman. Catherine shrugged.

"If they keep that up, they will be," she joked. With incredulous looks on their faces, they watched the three grown men dig in the sand like little kids. They contened themselves to sit inside the raft with Greg, because the sides offered protection not only from the wind, but flying bits of sand, as well.

By the time the storm passed over four hours later, there was a large pit dug. The only part of the original ground that was left was the small platform that held Greg, Sara, and Catherine. It was about two feet higher than the freshly dug earth. Nick, Warrick, and Grissom had dug out most of the shelter, leaving the sand to its normal height only by the walls.

"I cannot believe you guys dug this all out!" Catherine exclaimed, as she took Grissom's hand to help her off her perch.

"It was practical. No more ducking and protection from the wind," he answered.

"I am impressed," Sara marvelled, jumping down to join them. They surveyed the three men and laughed. They were all covered in sand from head to toe. Some of it just fell off, while some got caked on after the several times they had to go out in the rain to push the sand out and when they had to go fix the roof.

"I'm going swimming," Warrick announced, hopping up to the normal beach.

"Hey! Wait up, War!" Nick shouted, scrambling up after him.

"I'm going too," Gil told them before following the boys outside.

"I have a whole new respect for those knuckleheads," Sara said, looking at the door.

"You and me both," Catherine agreed, "What about you, Greg?" she asked his sleeping form. Something between a shiver and a yawn was her response.

TBC


	13. Good News and Bad News

Author's note: Alright! I kept my word! I don't know how soon the next update will be, but i hope it will be soon. enjoy.

Spoilers: I will generally tell what spoilers the chapters contain. In this Chapter: none

Summary: When Ecklie chooses Grissom's team to head to a conference in London, the Las Vegas CSI nightshift couldn't be more excited. Then their plane crashes in the sea. Now Grissom, Catherine, Nick, Warrick, Sara, and Greg are stranded on a deserted island and their only way home is to survive.

Disclaimer: I don't own CSI.

Surviving the Storm

Chapter 13: Good News and Bad News

The next two days passed without an incident. Without the necessity of the shelter building, there was really nothing that needed to be done. Fire maintenance was easy enough and they went back to looking after Greg in shifts. It really wasn't uncommon for most of the group to disappear into the forest and only check back at meal times. As of today, Nick, Warrick, and Grissom had reappeared from the forest at lunch looking determined and scraped up.

"What happened to you three?" Catherine asked, surveying them.

"We saw a pig in the trees," Nick told her.

"And you tried to catch it?" Sara asked, coming out of the shelter.

"It's a lot harder than it looks," Warrick commented, helping himself to some fire roasted snails, their version of escargot.

"Great. Testosterone, pigs, and hunger…I wonder what could happen," Catherine quipped, rolling her eyes.

"I know you like pork and ham and bacon, Catherine," Gil said in a very tempting voice.

"You know me too well," she answered, as the images came flying into her head.

"And it's better than the snails," Nick agreed.

"I don't mind the snails," Sara spoke up, not liking the prospect of killing an innocent pig.

"You're the only one, Sar," Warrick told her.

"How are you guys going to manage this?" Catherine asked between mouthfuls.

"Spears and the knife," Nick answered.

"And then we'll try to sneak up on it," Grissom added. After lunch was done, Warrick, Nick, and Grissom went to go find sticks to sharpen into spears.

"I don't like this," Sara said to Catherine inside the shelter.

"Don't worry, Sara. You've seen them hunt seagulls. They're more likely to catch a cold," Catherine convinced.

"I hope you're right," Sara said uneasily.

"They need something to do. Why not give them sticks and let them 'hunt', especially if they bring back food," Catherine shrugged.

"We're going hunting," Grissom called, poking his head inside.

"See you later," Catherine sighed as she watched him disappear.

"I swear he's becoming as obnoxious as Nick and Warrick," Sara laughed. Catherine grinned.

"He was always as obnoxious as Nick and Warrick. He just doesn't choose to show it very often," she said. For the next hour, Catherine and Sara took turns watching Greg, bathing, and doing chores. They also talked a lot more than they ever had done at home. They discussed everything from science, to the men, to their home lives. Catherine even regaled Sara with a couple of tales about Grissom's younger days, causing both women to burst into fits of laughter.

"You don't think we could get them to build a couple of shelves in here, do you?" Sara asked as she put the clean pots on the floor.

"Well, they did dig a whole floor for us," Catherine replied, turning to grab a rag from the raft, but she stopped.

"What?" Sara asked, looking at her. Catherine broke out in a grin and Sara saw what she was smiling at. Greg was awake. Catherine walked over to him and sat beside him.

"Hey, Greggy. How are you feeling?" she asked softly.

"Hot," he said, and then he looked confused.

"What's wrong, Greg?" Sara asked, coming to sit beside them.

"I was in trees…and bones…" he trailed off, looking as though thinking was physically hurting him.

"It's okay, Greg," Catherine whispered soothingly as she took his temperature.

"Tell you and G-Grissom…" he mumbled.

"We know, Greg," she said, and then she looked over at Sara, "He's still a little warm."

"Where?" Greg asked, his eyes darting around the room.

"In the shelter you helped design," Catherine answered, shifting a little so that Sara could dab his face with a wet cloth.

"Shelter?" he asked, confused.

"We finished it while you were asleep," Sara explained.

"How long?" he asked.

"Six days. We were getting worried about you," Catherine answered, "Can you hold this?" she asked him, gesturing to the shell full of water Sara had fetched. He held out his hands, but he was weak and spilt most of it on himself.

"Here," Sara said, taking the shell and bringing it to his mouth. He drank greedily.

"Thirsty?" Catherine asked, grinning. He smiled a weak smile, but it was the equivalent of his normal devilish grin.

"Kinda tired," he yawned.

"Then get some sleep," Sara said kindly.

"Engines," Greg then said, perking up, trying to sit up, but fell back, exhausted. Sara and Catherine looked confused, and then they both heard the low rumble of engines. They ran outside and just saw the tail end of a small, single-engine seaplane skimming the surface of the ocean, just east of the island before it disappeared from view.

"A plane!" Catherine exclaimed in awe, thinking of the possibility of home.

"It's close!" Sara breathed.

"It could see us!" Catherine said, running to find a flare gun.

00

Nick, Warrick, and Grissom were exhausted. They had been walking as softly as they could, trying to track the pigs. They didn't know exactly where they were on the island, but judging from the position of the rocky hilltop to their position in the trees, they appeared to be on the eastern side of the island.

"So are we ever going to find a pig?" Warrick asked as they sat down for another break.

"Well, they're obviously not on this side of the island," Grissom agreed.

"I want to get one, though," Nick whined.

"We all do," Warrick consented irritably.

"Especially to show Sara and Catherine," Nick added. All three men knew that Sara and Catherine doubted that they would bring home the bacon, so to speak.

"What's the matter, Nicky? Do you want to catch a piggy-wiggy for Sara-Wara?" Warrick teased in a baby voice.

"Shut up!" Nick protested, "And she's a vegetarian."

"Ah, Nicky, we didn't know you cared," Grissom joined in.

"Go play in the water with Catherine," Nick shot back, scowling. Warrick laughed, while Grissom shrugged non-committal.

"Go sleep by the fire with Sara," Grissom retorted back.

"What is this, badger Nick day?" Nick asked rhetorically. Grissom and Warrick laughed, but soon stopped upon hearing a low rumble.

"That sounds like an engine," Grissom said, cocking his head. Warrick nodded.

"A plane, maybe?" he asked, looking in the general direction of the sound.

"C'mon," Nick ordered, already walking in the direction of the sound. Soon they were in an all-out run. The engine stopped and it was Grissom who got to his senses and realized where they were headed.

"Hold it! Hold it!" he cried, grabbing Nick and Warrick to a halt.

"Griss, what's up with you, man? We could get off this island!" Warrick asked.

"Yeah, Griss. We could go home," Nick added.

"I know, but look at where they landed. We found the body around here," Grissom explained. Warrick and Nick paused to consider this.

"They could be the ones who shot him," Warrick figured out.

"And they wouldn't hesitate to shoot us," Nick added.

"What do we do?" Warrick asked.

"Let's go see what they're up to, but keep out of sight!" Grissom ordered. They cautiously continued forward, aware that one sound could alert the visitors to their presence. They were close the edge of the trees now; they could here the ocean. Then they heard a voice with a slight Italian accent.

"What are we doing here, Boss?" the man asked. They crept closer and could see a man looking around the beach, several steps ahead of a small group of others.

"Like the seclusion, Pat?" a beefy man with a black beard and moustache asked with a noticeably American accent. There was something about his voice that bothered Grissom.

"It's alright," the man called Pat, answered, "Good place for trafficking." Trafficking what, Grissom, Warrick, and Nick, did not want to know.

"It's only part of the business we do here, Pat," the American informed him.

"What else do you do?" Pat asked, but his question was answered when he saw the shiny, white bones in front of him. He whirled around to face his companions and came face to face with a cold, steel gun.

"This," the American answered before he fired two rounds, straight into Pat's chest. Grissom, Nick, and Warrick saw the dead man fall to the ground, blood oozing from his mouth, obviously dead.

"What do we do now, Boss?" came an unwavering voice with a German accent. 'Boss' considered him for a moment.

"Search him," he said, turning to wade back to the seaplane anchored in the water. Grissom, Nick, and Warrick watched for a moment as the other men removed from the dead man's pockets a wallet, his valuables, and a small bag of white powder, before the castaways soundlessly made their way back deeper into the bush. Once they were sure they could not be detected, they stumbled deeper into the bushes before they stopped.

"They- they killed…" Nick trailed off, shaken by what he had just witnessed.

"Oh my God!" Warrick repeated over and over.

"If they found us…" Grissom trailed off, the words too horrible to say.

"They iced him," Warrick said, shocked, as he sat on a stump, "Now this! We've been plane wrecked, marooned on an island, Greg's sick, and now this!"

"How could it get any worse?" Nick asked. Grissom froze.

"Catherine and Sara," he said. All three men paused and stared at each other before they tore through the trees at top speed. If Catherine and Sara thought the plane could rescue them and got the murderers' attention, they would never make it.

The adrenaline was pumping as they ran passed the river and the rocky hill, only stopping when Grissom tripped on a low branch and nailed his head on a rock. Dazed, but not completely out of it, he was helped up by Nick and Warrick and they were back to running through the trees, hoping against hope that Catherine and Sara hadn't got unwanted attention.

00

"Damn him!" Catherine cursed as she tore through the survival pack, looking for the flare gun.

"We can't have lost it!" Sara cried in despair, helping Catherine search.

"If that man lost the flare guns, there will be hell to pay!" Catherine threatened, talking about Grissom. They heard an engine resume and that fevered their search. Finally Catherine came across it. She pointed it in the sky, ready to pull the trigger.

"NO!" Warrick shouted, as he, Nick, and Grissom came tearing out of the trees.

"Guys, there's a-" Sara never got to finish as she was seized by Nick. She looked over at Catherine and saw Warrick and Grissom wrestle the gun from her hands and Warrick grabbing her around the waist. Soon both women had been drug into the shelter and held by the three men. Greg was trying to position himself to see what was going on.

"What the HELL!" Catherine shouted, fighting against Warrick's grip.

"There was a plane!" Sara yelled.

"Shh!" all three men hissed. Soon they heard the engine go by and Grissom hazarded a look through a hole in the shelter, hoping that the plane had missed them. He saw it disappear in the distance and he breathed a sigh of relief.

"What the Hell is the matter with you three!" Catherine vented, "There was a PLANE! We could have been RESCUED!"

"We would have been murdered," Grissom replied almost calmly. He was the only one present who had ever faced the wrath of Catherine Willows.

"RESCUED! Greg needs a-" Catherine continued her tirade, but paused as Grissom's words sank in, "Murdered? What do you mean murdered?" she asked a little roughly.

"The people on that plane landed on the beach where we found 'bones'," Grissom continued, urgently, "We saw them. We watched them from the bushes. They killed a man. Shot him. We saw it."

"They don't know we're here," Nick hazarded, "If they did…"

"They'd kill us," Sara finished. Everyone paused and Catherine's face softened.

"Rescue?" Greg asked weakly from the raft. Grissom, Warrick, and Nick looked over in surprise.

"You're awake, Greggo!" Nick exclaimed happily, already moving to his friend's side.

"Hey, Greg! How are you feeling, man?" Warrick asked. Greg gave a little thumb's up.

"H-hungry," he answered.

"We'll whip you something right up, Greg," Grissom agreed, breaking into a grin. For one shinning moment, they forgot about the danger and the murder. Warrick and Nick fed Greg more water and Sara sat with them.

"So this is why you didn't get a pig?" she teased. Nick nodded.

"We were so close to getting one too!" he lied.

Grissom was helping Catherine mix Greg something to eat, mostly coconut milk with bits of berries and bananas mashed in. After he ate, Greg fell asleep early. Nick, Warrick, and Sara went for a bath while Catherine was taking care of Grissom.

"Why am I always mending your injuries?" she asked him wryly. He smiled.

"Because I'm always getting injured," he offered, causing her to smile as well.

"I'm going to have to keep an eye on you," she teased, "Now this is going to sting," she said, dipping a cotton ball into the iodine.

"OW! Ow! Ow!" Grissom protested as she pressed it to the cut on his forehead.

"Oh, ow, ow, ow! Come here, you big baby!" she ordered, gently blowing on his forehead as she had done when Lindsey scraped her knee riding her first bicycle. The stinging stopped and Gil noted this.

"Better?" she asked, looking him in the eyes.

"Much," he responded. The moment passed when Catherine looked away, slightly embarrassed.

"So, what did they kill him over?" Catherine asked him as she got a band-aid from the first-aid kit.

"They were trafficking…drugs, money, sex…I don't know. They lifted a bag of powder from him after he was dead," Gil explained.

"They have seclusion here," Catherine said, swallowing.

"They'll be back, Catherine," Gil said, catching her eye once more.

"Then we'll face it together, as always," she said sincerely.

"As always," he repeated, and he was a little surprised when she pecked him on the cheek.

TBC


	14. Food For Distraction

Author's note: slightly overdue, but hey, sumthin's better than nothing. Enjoy. Italics is flashback.

Spoilers: I will generally tell what spoilers the chapters contain. In this Chapter: none

Summary: When Ecklie chooses Grissom's team to head to a conference in London, the Las Vegas CSI nightshift couldn't be more excited. Then their plane crashes in the sea. Now Grissom, Catherine, Nick, Warrick, Sara, and Greg are stranded on a deserted island and their only way home is to survive.

Disclaimer: I don't own CSI.

Surviving the Storm

Chapter 14: Food For Distraction

"Can't I have something solid?" Greg complained, wrinkling his nose at the berries and coconut milk being placed in front of him. For the past two days, Greg's diet consisted of coconut milk and berries, which he had only just managed to keep in his stomach.

"Are you criticizing my cooking?" Catherine joked, standing beside him, and then she replied, "As soon as you keep this stuff down without gagging afterwards, I'll give you what little solid food we have."

"Not likely," Greg muttered, shuddering as he took a sip. Catherine rolled her eyes and left the shelter, checking the horizon for any signs of life as she walked down to the surf. Over the last two days, more and more, she found herself looking in the distance for that floatplane. If the criminals discovered their camp, they were as good as dead.

"_What are we going to do about this?" Sara had asked two nights ago when the whole group was sitting by the fire._

"_If they find us, we're dead," Warrick deduced._

"_And it's not as if our camp is invisible. Sooner or later, they will see us on one of their trips to ice someone else," Catherine injected._

"_Nice to see you're still optimistic," Nick commented dryly. Catherine winked at him._

"_I've never been an optimist, Nicky," she replied, and then to the rest of the group, she said, "I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm not crazy about sharing this island with a bunch of criminals."_

"_What are you proposing we do, Cath? Leave the island?" Warrick asked._

"_Well, it does have its merits," she replied dryly._

"_And it has its disadvantages," Grissom added, "We don't know how far the nearest body of land is from here. It could be days away and there wouldn't be enough food or water to sustain us all. We could die at sea."_

"_Wouldn't that be better than waiting for them to come back?" she asked, looking over at him._

"_As long as we can keep them from spotting us, there's no need to be going anywhere," he replied placidly._

"_How are we going to do that?" Sara asked, looking between her boss and his second-in-command._

"_Camouflage our shelter. Make it look like its part of the forest. And then when we see a plane, we would stay out of sight," Grissom replied, as if it had been the most logical thing in the world._

"_And if they eventually see us?" Catherine asked, trying to get a read on his emotionless face._

"_Yeah, what then?" Warrick asked as well. Grissom looked around the fire at each face before he answered._

"_Then we leave the island."_

They had been fortunate enough to live through the plane crash, but could they survive this new danger? Catherine pondered this as she waded up to her knees in the cool water. What if they were seen? How long would they have to escape before the killers caught up with them? Even without the criminals chasing them, would they survive at sea? Catherine had resolved shortly after they landed on the island that she would survive this whole ordeal for her daughter. Was that possible now?

"How's the patient?" Sara asked, breaking Catherine out of her thoughts.

"Almost back to his old self," Catherine quipped, putting on a smirk.

"How do you figure that?" Sara asked, knowing Greg was only just starting to recover.

"He's already complaining," Catherine answered, grinning. Sara laughed.

"Poor Greg," she said shaking her head. And then she too, looked towards the horizon, as if searching for something.

"We're all on edge," Catherine said, joining Sara's gaze. Sara shook her head.

"I know. At least we had a shot to get off this island before they came," she said bitterly, "We could at least signal for a plane."

"We had a chance," Catherine agreed, feeling morose. They stood silent in the shallows for a moment only to be interrupted but the soft thud of a spear hitting the sand. They looked up and saw that the 'three hunters' were back from their latest expedition, and from the looks of their disgruntled expressions, they had come up empty handed once more.

"This sucks! Just one time, I'd like to come back with something other than sore feet!" Nick exclaimed, scowling as he poked at the fire with his spear. Warrick looked just as frustrated as Nick, while Grissom just looked exhausted.

"No luck?" Sara asked sympathetically as she and Catherine made their way up to them.

"We were close," Nick quickly responded, though Catherine knew where the truth lied. She looked at Grissom, who shook his head, telling her that they were no closer than their first hunt.

"Do you think we'd have better luck with seagulls?" Warrick asked, remembering when Nick and Greg had collided trying to get a gull.

"Well, there is an abundance," Catherine commented dryly, looking at the pesky birds that thoroughly enjoyed acting as alarm clocks.

"If we had fishing line, we could fish," Sara said.

"Well, we do have harpoons," Grissom said dryly, sticking his spear into the sand.

"If we don't find something, we'll have to ask Greg how his fruit cocktail tastes," Warrick sighed.

"It's gross!" they heard Greg shout from inside the shelter.

"Would you like the fish or the seagull?" Nick called pleasantly as if he were a waiter.

"Anything!" Greg pleaded.

"Someone is feeling better," Grissom commented.

"Oh, he is," Catherine agreed. Warrick rose to his feet.

"How does fish sound, Greg?" he called.

"Excellent!" was the enigmatic response.

"C'mon, Nick, let's go fishin'," Warrick then said, grabbing a spear and heading toward the rocky shore where they could see clearly into the water. Nick got up and followed, clearly thinking anything was better than sitting around. Grissom remained.

"You're not going to join them?" Catherine asked as she moved past him to go in the shelter.

"Are you kidding? I'm exhausted," he replied, rubbing his eyes.

"Someone will sleep good tonight," Sara commented as she poked the fire with a stick. Grissom cracked open an annoyed eye before he bounded into the shelter, in search of a banana.

"So they're fishing?" Greg pried Catherine as she took his bowl.

"You know you can't have any. You'll throw it up," Catherine replied. The look on Greg's face clearly showed how much he liked that remark.

"I won't!" he protested, "I'd be okay to eat that!"

"Greg-"

"Aw, Cath, let him try to eat. He's been starving himself on fruit soup," Gil said from his corner. He smiled when he saw Greg's face light up.

"Please, Catherine. Pretty please?" Greg pleaded. For a moment, Catherine looked undecided, and then she sighed.

"Fine, but if he throws up, you clean it up," she said, pointing to Gil as she exited the shelter to wash the bowl.

"Dude, she told you," Greg said from his raft. Grissom looked at him.

"If you throw up, I'll make your life equally as miserable," Grissom said, leaving Greg to ponder that.

"There's one there," Nick pointed out a fish to Warrick, who was lying on the rocks on his stomach, spear in hand. Warrick saw it and struck.

"You bastard!" he cursed at the fish who only narrowly escaped its fate, "Get back here you little…" he trailed off, muttered a mix of swearwords at the fish.

"Missed?" Sara asked, approaching the two men.

"I'll get 'em!" Warrick growled, eyes scanning the water, "Here fishy, fishy…"

"Has he lost it?" Sara asked Nick, who was kneeling.

"Hunger does that to you," Nick replied, standing up. She smiled.

"And what about you?" she asked, looking out in the water.

"I tried to help him, but then I started killing myself laughing at him," he replied, "I thought you don't like to join us when we're hunting."

"I don't. This is fishing. I like fish, you know," Sara answered, causing Nick to shift sheepishly. She giggled at him.

"I knew that," he said quickly.

"Of course," Sara agreed, rolling her eyes, and then she gestured to his forgotten spear, "Can I try?" she asked.

"If you want," he complied, handing her the spear.

"Balance me?" she requested as she knelt over the water. He firmly held her waist as she looked for a fish. She felt safe knowing he was there. Then she jabbed the spear in the water, missing the fish, but losing her balance and falling back into Nick.

"Woa!" Nick said as she tumbled on his chest. Her face was inches from his, but neither moved. They held that moment, just staring into each other's eyes, lips only inches away.

"Awww!" Warrick's voice broke them out of the moment and they froze, ready to endure teasing, but it never came. Instead Warrick said, "You're a nice fishy. You know you want to end up on my spear." They looked over as Warrick jabbed to water with his spear. They burst out laughing, rolling on the ground.

"What's so funny?" Warrick asked, looking over at them as if they had gone crazy. Both, Nick and Sara shook their heads, but didn't stop laughing.

"N-Nothing, man," Nick answered between gasps.

"This isn't working," Warrick said, ignoring them. He looked back at the water, his brow furrowed in thought. Then his face lit up and he ran back to camp.

"What was that about?" Sara asked, leaning on Nick to get to her feet.

"Beats me," Nick said, getting to his feet. A moment later, Warrick reappeared with his old blue shirt.

"What are you doing with that?" Sara asked, watching as he tied the sleeves around two sticks.

"I am making a net," Warrick announced proudly.

"A net?" Nick asked, "'Rick, you're a genius!"

"I know," Warrick replied cheekily. He dipped the makeshift net in the water and waited. He watched as a school of fish inched closer.

"Now?" Sara whispered. He shook his head. The fish inched closer and then there was a splash. Nick jumped out of the way as Warrick brought his net up, revealing three small fish, about six inches long.

"HA! HA! Yeah!" Warrick cheered.

"Do it again!" Nick demanded, grabbing two of the fish, while Sara grabbed the third. They threw them in the middle of a small assortment of rocks, moved to make a pail. They waited a couple of minutes before Warrick brought up two more. Soon Nick and Sara were preoccupied with Warrick's many fish. It was only when Sara turned that she saw their new problem.

"Uh…guys?" she questioned.

"What?" they responded, not even turning to look at her.

"We have a problem," she said.

"Problem?" Nick asked turning around and then he saw what was going on, "Oh, shit! You feathery bastards!" he yelled, running to their fish, which were being munched on by hungry seagulls.

"Oh, Hell no!" Warrick exclaimed, putting down his net and running to help Nick chase away the birds. Sara, however, was beside herself with laughter as she watched Nick and Warrick chase the gulls down to the sand.

When Nick, Warrick, and Sara returned from fishing, they found Catherine, Grissom, and Greg sitting around the fire. Greg had insisted that he join them outside, whether it was to get out of the shelter or to be outside in case he threw up was anybody's guess.

"What happened to you two?" Catherine asked when she saw Nick and Warrick. Both were dirty, sweaty, and bruised. Warrick had feathers in his hair, while Nick looked like he ate sand and feathers. Sara was unscathed.

"The seagulls," Nick answered. Sara tried to stifle a giggle. He glared at her.

"Not again," Grissom moaned.

"Did you catch anything?" Greg asked eagerly.

"We went through Hell to get this," Warrick deadpanned, opening the shirt he was holding to reveal a small pile of fish. Grins broke out.

"Fish fry!" Catherine announced, holding up a frying pan. Of the ten fish Warrick caught (and wrestled back from the gulls), they fried six of them, making fish-ca-bobs out of the rest.

"This has never tasted so good!" Grissom gushed as he took another bite of his fish.

"Why didn't we do this before?" Nick asked.

"I don't know," Sara answered.

"Warrick's the man!" Greg exclaimed between nibbles of his fish.

"I know," Warrick grinned. That night, supper was incredible. Catching the fish felt like their first triumph, and it had somehow sparked a hope in each person that, maybe, just maybe, things would be all right.

"Greg are you feeling okay?" Catherine asked later in the evening. The young man retched and threw up his dinner.

"Aww, come on, buddy, let's get you to bed," Nick said as he and Warrick moved to help their young friend. As the guys helped Greg to bed, Catherine looked over at Grissom.

"Yeah, I know. You told me so," he sighed, getting up to at least cover up the mess. Some world, he thought. I'm cleaning up vomit on a desert island frequented by murderers, while Brass, Doc, and the rest get sit in the lab and eat doughnuts.

TBC

AN: lol I have to thank my boyfriend's best friend, Zack, for the inspiration for Warrick, the fish, and the aww moment. lol Zack, ur the bomb!


	15. Falling Apart

Author's note: Now to find out what's been happening back in vegas. Enjoy. Oh and a plus? I'm almost done chapter 16.

A special thanks to El Gringo Loco for helping me get facts straight for future chapters and make this story more believable.

Spoilers: I will generally tell what spoilers the chapters contain. In this Chapter: Harvest, slight Sounds of Silence, a bit sounds silimilar to feeling the heat...

Summary: When Ecklie chooses Grissom's team to head to a conference in London, the Las Vegas CSI nightshift couldn't be more excited. Then their plane crashes in the sea. Now Grissom, Catherine, Nick, Warrick, Sara, and Greg are stranded on a deserted island and their only way home is to survive.

Disclaimer: I don't own CSI.

Surviving the Storm

Chapter 15: Falling Apart

"Mrs. Harmon, I'm sorry to tell you that your son died of drowning, but if it is any consolation, I believe he died saving a life," Chris Marez explained to a woman in her early fifties.

"He saved someone?" the woman asked, teary-eyed.

"I believe so," Marez said encouragingly. Mrs. Harmon gave him a watery smile.

"Thank you," she said sincerely, turning to walk out of the morgue. Marez smiled at her retreating back, but it faded as Captain Jim Brass and Dr. Albert Robbins flanked him.

"You know, if the evidence says Andrew Harmon murdered that girl, you're going to have to tell that poor woman the truth," Brass warned in a low voice.

"He jumped in the water after her!" Marez defended himself, spinning to face the two older men.

"To help her of harm her?" Brass asked, matching the young CSI's tone. Marez rolled his eyes.

"There you go again, Captain! You are always contradicting me!" he exclaimed, rounding on the older man. Doc Robbins stepped in.

"Now, Chris, no one is contradicting-"

"All do respect, Doctor, but you do it as much as he does," Marez said coldly.

"Maybe if you actually looked for evidence rather than concoct stories to tell the families, we wouldn't have to!" Brass shot back in defence of his friend.

"Listen!" Marez demanded, "I don't need you telling me how to do my job!"

"Then do it right!" Brass argued back, "The doc and I just got the SARC results back on Alicia Nelson and it shows that the hero on the slab raped her!"

"So you were keeping me out of the loop?" Marez accused angrily.

"No, we were just coming to find you!" Robbins tried to explain.

"What the Hell is going on here?" Todd Voles, the new graveyard supervisor, asked, making his way into the morgue.

"They kept me out of the loop about our case!" Marez accused to his boss.

"What?" Voles asked, rounding on the Doc and Brass.

"We found out the victim had been raped by Andrew Harmon and we were going to find Marez, but he had already compromised the case by telling Mrs. Harmon that her son was a hero," Brass explained, glaring at the younger man, "Maybe you should teach your CSIs how to do their jobs, Voles!"

"Now you're out of line, Brass!" Voles said rising. He took a step towards Brass, but the effect was lost when Brass advanced like a raging pit bull.

"That's enough!" Robbins shouted, uncharacteristically. Everyone froze for several minutes, before Voles seized Marez by the arm.

"Let's go do our jobs, Chris," Voles ordered.

"At least Grissom's team knew how to do their jobs," Brass stated snidely.

"We're not Grissom's team," Voles said coldly, turning momentarily to shoot Brass an icy stare.

"Obviously!" Brass replied, just as icy as Voles. Then he watched, scowling, as Voles and Marez exited the morgue. He and Doc Robbins stood in silence for a moment.

"What has gotten into you?" Al asked softly after a moment.

"What?" Jim asked, confused.

"You never argued with Gil, or Nick, or Warrick like that," the doctor said softly. He saw the surly detective's face soften.

"They knew what they were doing," Brass repeated, looking at the floor, "I trusted them."

"We all did, but we can't try to make this new team like them," Robbins said wisely. Brass snorted.

"I know that better than anyone, Doc. But I gave them a chance and they just can't hack it. They're a team the same calibre of what Conrad Ecklie used to be," he answered, staring Robbins in the eye. Al got it.

"They're the B team," he said, "But we've just got to make the best of it."

"Yeah, while crime lab's rank slips from second best to twenty-second best. They're all politicians, not scientists," Brass growled. Albert hazarded a small chuckle.

"Gil wouldn't have like them," he said. Brass smiled affectionately.

"Gil would've lost his temper with them a long time ago," he said, turning to answer his ringing cell phone, "I'll see you later, Doc. I've got to meet with Ecklie."

He turned and walked down the hall. Sooner than he had anticipated, he was inside the horribly plain office, staring at the sombre face of Conrad Ecklie.

"So, I here there are problems between you and my CSIs," the other man started.

"I'm adjusting," Brass quipped. Ecklie laughed.

"Just go out and say it, Brass. You don't think they're up to par," he guessed.

"I don't agree with some of their tactics," Brass explained. Unlike Grissom, who would have told Ecklie flat out what he thought of the new team, Brass was more in tune with the office politics.

"Well, you're not alone in that view. I can't even begin to count the number of times around the lab that I have heard the nightshift being criticized and compared to Grissom's team in the last two weeks. I have lab technicians who are checking up on case progress through detectives and evidence being checked up on by detectives," Ecklie explained, and Brass knew that he and Sofia Curtis were those detectives.

"And?" Brass questioned.

"And I want this lab to recognize the fact that Grissom and his team are gone. They're never coming back. I handpicked this team, Brass. They are the best. I know you have had some conflicts with them, but it would really help me out if you would show the rest of the lab that you accept them," Ecklie explained. Brass almost snorted.

"One problem, Ecklie. I don't. I'm not going to go about misleading people. That is your job, not mine," he said coldly, rising from his chair.

"Brass, be reasonable!" Ecklie called on his retreating back, "I have enough on my plate without this! The Stokes' keep calling, wanting more details about my role in sending Nick on that plane! It's not as if it were my fault, but Judge Stokes is insistent. Not only that, the sheriff is coming to me for the political details-" he continued.

"Good day, Ecklie," Brass said, exiting the office. His beeper rang, and once again he was hurrying off to his next destination: Desert Palm Hospital.

When he got there, he was lead to a hospital bed, occupied by Mark Sidle, Sara's older brother.

"What happened to you, Mr. Sidle?" he asked. The man was heavily bandaged and it seemed to pain him to talk.

"Care accident," Mark said groggily.

"Something you should know, Captain Brass," a snide voice said from the corner, "Is that Mark Sidle was stoned behind the wheel, weren't you, Mr. Sidle?"

"I haven't done that shit in a long time," Mark denied, trying to move to face Detective Ortega, but winced in pain.

"I called you, Brass, because I'm sure as a close friend of his sister's, you'd like to know," Ortega explained, looking at Mark like he was dirt.

"Thank you for the heads up," Brass said curtly, looking pointedly at the door. He was pleased that someone as cruel and stupid as Ortega got the hint. After he was gone, Brass turned to Mark.

"It is true?" he asked. Mark smiled ruefully.

"My mother is in a mental asylum. My father is dead. How do you think I'm coping? My little sister, the only family member I had left, is dead," he said.

"That's no reason to dope up," Brass told him. Mark laughed.

"You're right," he chuckled, "Maybe I am crazy."

This unnerved Brass, who now knew a little of his and Sara's past. He stood and stared at Sara Sidle's older brother and wondered how two people from the same family grew into two very different people. It was only when the nurse came to get him that Brass left. As he walked through the pale corridor, he shuddered involuntary. Hospitals had always given him the creeps. They were too much like morgues and nursing homes, two places he never wanted to end up, but he knew of people who were in both.

It was out of an act of gratitude and duty that he pulled out his cell phone once he was in the cool night air, and called the Sunnyside Retirement Home in San Diego. He waited for an answer and when he did, he enquired about Martha Grissom, Gil's mother. Brass had met the prominent, yet motherly woman that Gil had adored so much, once or twice prior to the plane crash. She was a kind, lively woman who spoke fondly (or rather signed and told Gil to interpret) of her only son. That's why it affected Jim so, when Gil's uncle had called and gave him the news that Martha was not getting on as well as she used to. Since her admission to Sunnyside, Jim had called to check up on her, partly because he liked her, and partly because of Gil. When Jim had been critically shot, it had been up to Gil to decide his fate. His friend did not pull the plug. Gil took a chance to see if he got better. Following the surgery, Gil made a point in stopping by to fill him in or to just hang out. Brass owed it to his friend. That's why he did it.

After the call ended, Jim decided that he had better get back to the lab, but not before he saw Tina Brown walking and crying to a tall black man. Deciding not to pry Brass hurried on his way, receiving another page as he was driving.

By the time Jim arrived in the lobby, Sam Braun was struggling to control his temper for the umpteenth time as.

"She's definitely Catherine's daughter," Lily Flynn sighed from behind him, as she put her head in her hands.

"Why-" he couldn't finish because his voice was constricted with anger.

"She's a teenager, Sam," Lily said, the annoyance present in her voice, coupled with worry.

He watched her movements with frustration. It wasn't directed at Lily, but at Lindsey. He had never had to deal with a teenage girl before, and it was harder than he had anticipated. After Catherine's funeral, Lindsey had been quiet, always alone in her room, but lately, her behaviour was changing. Only two weeks after the funeral, Sam and Lily had been called to Lindsey's school on reports that she had been fighting. When asked about this, Lindsey wouldn't talk, but she would run to her room and slam the door. Her grades slipped. Then she started sneaking out at all hours. Now when Sam and Lily had been teenagers, they had snuck out their fair share. Lily had told him Catherine had tried every opportunity to ditch her mother, and he had always turned a blind eye when his sons had their midnight rendezvous, but that was then. A lot had changed since he and Lily were young, and even since Catherine, Walt, and Tony were young. There were so many dangers, not just in a town like Vegas, but everywhere. He had already outlived two of his children.

Before Catherine took that ill-fated voyage, he had been trying to do right by her. He gave her money so that she and Lindsey could live comfortably. He helped her when her co-worker was in danger. He was back with her mother, and they had taken a few trips as a family. Still, Catherine had her reasons for distrusting him. He was a suspect in a few of her cases. She discovered he was actually a murderer in one of them. But most of all, he had broke her mother's heart all those years ago. Now it seemed that the only way Sam was ever going to make it up to her was by taking care of Lindsey. He had never done right by Lily, but he was damn well going to do right by Catherine and Lindsey. Even if the latter made it difficult for him.

"Did Lindsey sneak off again?" Brass asked, knowing that it was the most likely cause for this visit.

"Yes," Lily answered, for Sam was in no fit to talk. Brass sighed. It was the second time this week Lindsey had taken off without telling anybody.

"I'll get on it," he assured them, walking out the doors and to his car.

While her grandparents worried, Lindsey Willows was not riding in cars with boys or sneaking off to parties with her friends. She was standing beside the Bellagio Fountains, just watching as the water ran in a cycle. When she was little, her mother used to bring her here all the time. Most times it had just been Lindsey and her mother watching the water fall. Occasionally Uncle Gil had joined them, claiming he would never miss an opportunity to hang out with his two favourite girls. Even rarer still were the times her dad would come with them. Lindsey had loved the water, any kind of water, not just the swirling fluid in the fountains. She had loved swimming in pools, or on the beachfront of her grandmother's lake lot, or even just running through the sprinkler on a hot day. Her mother had always been right there with her, in the pool, at the lake, even chasing her through the sprinkler. Lindsey leaned over the edge stared at her reflection. Uncle Gil had always told her how she resembled her mother. Was he right? She couldn't even ask him. Lindsey leant over and scooped some of the cool liquid in her hands and let it drip through her fingers, joining her falling tears in creating ripples in her image in the water.

"Lindsey?" a familiar voice asked. She stiffened and used her dry hand to hurriedly wipe the tears from her eyes before turning to face Captain Jim Brass. She stuffed her hands in her pockets as she stared at his approaching form.

"Yeah?" she asked as he came to a stop, leaning on the low edge of the fountain.

"You know, your grandparents are worried sick," Brass tried. She turned to watch the water fall from its high arc.

"You know, Lindsey, you really need to stop this," he continued.

"Why?" she asked, not comprehending why it was so bad to go to the one of her favourite places in the world. A place where her mother loved just as much as she did.

"You are all your grandparents have. If something ever happened to you, they would be heartbroken. This world is a-"

"Dangerous place and I must be careful," Lindsey interrupted, rolling her eyes, "Yeah, yeah, I know. Mom told me."

"Then why are you still being careless with your safety? Do you think she'd want you to sneak off late at night, into the streets of a city that showed her so many horrors? Do you think she wanted that for you?" Brass asked, trying to catch her eye.

"You don't know what I think and you don't know me!" she exclaimed, emotion seeping out into her voice. She fought back tears as she stared determinedly back at him.

"I knew your mother, Lindsey. You have her eyes, her face, and her personality. You have her willpower, her desire to be free, and her stubbornness. You even fight back emotions the same way she did. I know it hurts, but in time, it won't as much. Rebelling against the pain won't bring Catherine back, Lindsey," he told her, and for this she resented him. She didn't want his sympathy, nor did she want him talking about her mother like he knew her inside out. The only person, who could have ever had a chance of talking to Lindsey about Catherine that way, would have been Uncle Gil. Not even her grandmother or aunt could have talked to Lindsey about that much of her mother's personality.

"But it sure helps me," she retorted scathingly, "Now are you going to take me back to the police station?"

"Yes. Let's go," he sighed, defeated, as he led the teenager back to his car. On the drive back to HQ, Brass wondered is Grissom would have had better luck with Catherine's mini-me, while Lindsey sat in the back, wishing she could turn back time, that her mother was still alive.

And as Brass laid awake that night in bed, he put aside the knowledge that the US Coast Guard was trolling the Altlantic, looking for the bodies of the crash, and he too wished that the Grissom, Catherine, Nick, Sara, Warrick, and Greg were still alive.

TBC


	16. Know Thine Enemy

Author's note: told you i was almost done chapter 16. Now it's getting down to the nitty gritty. Enjoy.

Special Thanks to El Gringo Loco for helping to make this story believable.

Spoilers: I will generally tell what spoilers the chapters contain. In this Chapter: not a lot

Summary: When Ecklie chooses Grissom's team to head to a conference in London, the Las Vegas CSI nightshift couldn't be more excited. Then their plane crashes in the sea. Now Grissom, Catherine, Nick, Warrick, Sara, and Greg are stranded on a deserted island and their only way home is to survive.

Disclaimer: I don't own CSI.

Surviving the Storm

Chapter 16: Know Thine Enemy 

"You know, I feel okay," Greg chirped, following Catherine out of the shelter.

"Greg, that's what you said before you scared us all half to death," she replied nonchalantly.

"But I really do," he insisted, "You said yourself that my fever was down. And I kept down my fish."

"I thought we agreed that you would take it easy for at least two weeks. It's only been a week and three days since you woke up," she reminded him.

"What's four days?" he asked. She turned to look at him.

"I thought you'd enjoy lounging around the beach," she said. He shrugged.

"I'm bored," he replied.

"Go bug Sara," Catherine replied irritably.

"She went for a walk," Greg whined, following Catherine to the water.

"Go for a swim," she suggested, washing the dirty dishes. Greg looked distastefully at the water.

"I already did," he replied. She sighed and counted to ten.

"Greg Sanders, you're a grown man. Find something to amuse yourself," she snapped, stomping back up the beach with the plastic dishes bouncing in her hands. Knowing better than to continue to pester an exceptionally annoyed Catherine, he contented himself with bending a pliable stick, while looking up and down the beach for something to do. And then, with the stick bent like a hoop, he saw the coconut lying on the sand. He looked between the branch and shell and you could almost see the gears turning in his head.

Some time later, when Sara returned from her walk, Greg was standing on top of anything he could to give himself a little extra height so he could attach his make-shift hoop to the tree trunk.

"What is he doing?" Sara asked Catherine, who had now retired to the cool pit in the shelter.

"Beats the heck outta me," she replied, "He's staying out of my hair. I'm not going to disrupt him."

"He's back to his old self, huh?" Sara asked, smirking.

"Oh yeah," Catherine emphasized.

"OUCH!"

"What did he do now?" Catherine groaned, as she and Sara went to check on their charge. They found him lying on the sand with a hoop-bent stick ringed around his neck and a mixture of the woodpile, the coconut shells, and the Survival Kit box lay scattered beside him.

"Nicely done, Greggo," Sara smirked, wishing she could have witnessed his latest mishap.

"Thanks," he mumbled, struggling to his feet, "That-"

Greg was cut off as Nick came up behind him and yanked the hoop around his neck, causing the twig to snap and Greg to fall to the sand.

"Have a good trip, Greg?" Nick teased. Sara noted the brilliant smile on the Texan's face, which was usually absent after their hunting trips.

"Absolutely," Greg mocked, "Want to join me?" with that Greg dived at Nick's knees, causing his friend to fall beside him.

"Not cool," Nick complained, rubbing his back. Catherine and Sara laughed.

"Then don't push me first," Greg retorted childishly.

"You didn't have to dive at me," Nick replied.

"Give it a rest," Grissom ordered, walking up with Warrick.

"How was the forest today?" Sara asked. In response, Nick got up and ran behind Grissom and Warrick and grabbed the two dead birds they had behind their backs.

"Ta-Da!" he said displaying them.

"Mm, nice," Sara said, just to satisfy him.

"A better day I see," Catherine quipped, smiling, but her comment was directed at Gil.

"We decided we couldn't come back to you empty-handed," Grissom said casually, moving to stand beside her.

"My, my, my, you three are such excellent providers," she commented, doing some serious ego stroking.

"I try," he said softly, smiling.

"Let's have a feast tonight!" Greg suggested.

"Celebrating what?" Sara asked. He looked stumped.

"Our one month anniversary?" Warrick suggested.

"Oh, I didn't know we were involved, War," Sara replied, feigning surprise. Everybody laughed.

"Don't even," he scoffed, "Once a married man, always a married man."

"He is right though," Nick added, "It has been a month since the crash. We survived all this time on pretty much nothing."

"That is something to celebrate," Grissom agreed.

"Absolutely," Catherine said, grinning, but that smile did not last long. As she said the word, she looked up at the sky and saw a tiny speck in the distance, making her blood run cold.

"So are we roasting or boiling dinner?" Greg asked excitedly.

"Roast," Nick elected.

"But the fish all tasted kind of blah roasted over the fire. I don't want to spoil the poultry," Greg pointed out.

"But-"

"Just stop!" Catherine cut across Nick's retort. They all looked at her strangely, as she stood staring wide-eyed passed their heads.

"Cath, are you okay?" Gil asked cautiously. She pointed to the sky and they all saw the tiny speck growing larger and larger as it came nearer.

"Oh, God, what do we do?" Sara asked, looking wildly around.

"Get off the beach and put out the fire!" Grissom bellowed. They scattered, running around the camp trying to make their camp seem as inconspicuous as possible. Greg, Nick and Warrick took turns throwing sand on the fire until it was smothered, while Sara and Catherine threw as many items in the shelter as possible. Grissom did his best to put shrubs and leaves around the shelter, and it was only when he received help from his team that it seemed camouflaged enough. Just as they entered the shelter, they could hear the faint sound of engines growing nearer.

"Sweet Jesus, don't let them see us," Catherine prayed, hugging her knees as she sat in a corner of their hut. Her eyes were closed and with each increasing in the noise, she shut them tighter.

"They're coming down," Warrick whispered as he watched the floatplane's progress through a crack in the wall. Sara whimpered from in between Nick and Greg, while Catherine clenched her knees tighter against her chest.

"They're coasting on the water," Greg murmured as he gazed through his own hole.

"Quiet," Grissom demanded, his voice shaking ever so slightly, as he stood beside Catherine.

"They passed. They're headed for Death Rock," Nick disobeyed his boss. After he said it, the six of them let out a breath that they didn't know they were holding.

"They just have to finish what they're doing and they'll be gone," Grissom stated, though they were sure that it was just as much meant to reassure himself as it was meant to reassure the rest of them.

"I wonder what they are doing," Greg said softly.

"No," Grissom said firmly, knowing what was going through the young man's head. Greg was always in search of an adventure, and that desire had increased ten-fold since he had been beached.

"It'd give us an edge. Maybe we can find out something about them. If we eavesdrop on them, we might find out what they're up to," Greg argued.

"You're crazy," Sara snapped, "You just want a chance to do something stupid!"

"I'm sick of living in fear. I want to figure out how to stay alive," Greg said simply.

"If they find us, they'll kill us," Nick stated.

"Would you rather be prepared for them or not?" Greg retorted.

"It's not about preparation, Greg; it's about staying alive!" Grissom asserted.

"What if they give us information to help us stay alive?" Greg shot back.

"What if they find us?" Warrick asked.

"They won't," Greg said surely, "I'll keep out of sight. I want to know what they're up to!"

"So do I," an unexpected voice chirped from the corner. Catherine was now on her feet and her eyes were set.

"Cath-"

"Gil, he makes some valid points. What if we can stay two steps ahead of them? Wouldn't our chances of survival be a whole lot better?" she asked, looking Gil straight in the eye. He knew that there would be no stopping her. He looked around the room and saw that his team was leaning towards Greg and Catherine's point of view.

"Quietly and just within hearing range," he complied. All six of them hurriedly walked in the direction of Death Rock in total silence. It wasn't long before they heard voices. Creeping closer, they listened.

"…I'll settle for fifteen hundred," a man with a thick Spanish accent finished.

"There's at least two g's worth of coke and opium in the crate, Tito," Gil shuddered as he heard the agonizingly familiar voice of the American known as 'Boss'.

"Nineteen," Tito grudgingly accepted after a moment of silence. The castaways heard a peculiar sound in the silence, almost a clinking sound.

"And then you'll pay my men for their hard labour. I could make you dig the box up yourself, Tito, but Johnny, Karl, Lee, Rizzo, and Raul here, were kind enough to help you out. They need a reward, don't you agree?" Boss asked snidely. Nick had the distinct feeling that the guy was a pro at milking something for all it was worth.

"How much, Boss?" Tito sighed. The clinking of shovels in the sand could be heard as Boss mulled it over.

"Two hundred each. Sound good, boys?" Boss called. There was a mixture of whoops and cheers of approval.

What Tito said could not be heard by any of the castaways, but from Boss's laugh, they were sure it was something that could get him in trouble. They were right.

"You won't last long in this business with a mouth like that, Tito," Boss laughed before a loud smack was heard and the laughter of the apparent other five members of the party.

"I apologize," Tito could just be heard. There was more silence until they heard a thud.

"Your crate," a high, cold voice said.

"Thank you, Mr. Johnny, sir," Tito sounded fearful.

"Don't worry, Teet. If we were going to to ice you, we wouldn't have dug this thing up," Johnny told him cruelly.

"We have better things to use our ammo on, don't we, John?" Boss asked his partner. There was a grunt of pain.

"Your debt to the Ring ain't paid off yet, you miserable slime," Johnny sneered.

"W-What?" Tito asked, sounding as though he was injured. There was another grunt.

"You'll be joining us on our next trip out here, Tito, and you won't be alone," Boss explained, "Two weeks from now, I want you and Fox to meet us at the airstrip. Then we'll fly out here and the traitor will end up like Pat and Ivan, here."

"Yes, sir."

"And if you tip him off, we'll find you and you'll join Pat and Ivan. Do I make myself clear?" Boss asked.

"Perfectly," Tito whimpered weakly, but there was another grunt of pain.

"Lee, Raul, load the crate onto the plane. Karl, Rizzo, fill the hole in. John, escort Tito back to the plane. We're leaving," Boss ordered.

Grissom was giving orders of his own as he gestured for them all to quietly make their way back to camp. With shaking knees, they went to the base of the rocky hill and sat under the trees, listening as the engine roared off into the distance. Greg was the first to speak.

"I hate to say I told you so, but…"

"Shut it," Warrick said irritably. After a moment, they all got up and hiked the rest of the way back to camp.

"Anyone hungry?" Greg asked as they stood in the trees covering their shelter. Everyone looked hesitant. How could they eat at a time like this?

Finally Grissom spoke, "We need energy and preparing a meal will help us get our minds off…this."

He was right. As they got to work, they didn't think about the murderers. Nick and Warrick focused on plucking the birds, while Sara and Greg built the fire up again. Gil helped Catherine sort through the supplies that had been tossed inside the shelter during their panic to hide earlier.

"What are we going to do?" Catherine asked, looked across the room at him.

"We'll figure something out," he replied, and upon seeing the fear in her eyes, he said, "We'll be prepared, Catherine. I'm not going to let anything happen to you." She didn't say a word. She crossed the shelter and hugged him tightly, drawing strength from him.

"At least we can prepare," she said softly as she let him go.

"Yeah, you and Greg were onto something," he agreed.

"So much for a celebration," she joked. He grinned.

"Happy one month anniversary, Catherine," he stated.

"Happy anniversary, Gil," she replied.

Dinner was a quiet affair as everyone ate in silence. No one seemed able to talk about what they heard while they ate. It was not a dinner conversation. Instead, they all knew enough to wait until after the dishes were washed and when the fire blazing in a warm and welcoming fashion. Then they discussed what they heard.

"How many crates of drugs do you reckon they have dug into the sand?" Greg asked.

"We could go check," Gil suggested, but no one took him up on this. None of them had the desire to go anywhere near Death Rock ever again.

"So we know that they deal drugs; they work for 'The Ring'; 'Boss' orders around five men, who do his bidding and torture their clients," Warrick listed off.

"They have drugs hidden in the sand," Greg continued, "They have an airstrip; they use the island for damage control and as a secret trading zone."

"Boss is a forceful personality, who likes to get his money's worth; he's killed two people, Pat and Ivan, possibly more, and they're plotting the murder of a guy named Fox," Nick finished, feeling as if he were back in the lab and they were simply reviewing the case to each other.

"And they will be back in two weeks time to kill 'Fox'," Sara added, discreetly moving closer to Nick for comfort.

"What are we going to do?" Catherine asked, repeating the question she had asked Gil earlier. Now, however, there was none of her previous fear and apprehension. She was the normal cool and collect Catherine Willows again.

"Well, we know that they don't know about us," Warrick said.

"And we've obviously proven that we can hide well," Nick added.

"But how long can we keep hiding?" Sara questioned.

"That's exactly what troubles me," Grissom injected, "Sooner or later, they will clue into our presence."

"And when they do, they won't be too pleased," Greg supplied, stating the obvious.

"As I said before, I'm not crazy about sharing this island with a bunch of criminals," Catherine asserted.

"And as I said before, we can't leave the island until we have no choice," Grissom repeated, looking across at her.

"Yeah, and when we have no choice, how long do you think it will take until they catch up with us?" Catherine asked. The other four looked back and forth as if they were watching a ping-pong match.

"When I said we'd prepare for them, I didn't just mean camouflage and hide, Cath," he told her, "I also meant that we should prepare to leave the island, if need be. If we're ever discovered, we need to make a quick get-away. We need to know this island inside out, and we need to have the raft prepared with as much food and water as possible, at all times."

"Yeah, that'd be great. We really wouldn't get noticed if there was a fully stocked raft sitting on our beachfront," Warrick said sarcastically.

"We wouldn't keep it on our beachfront. We'd find a well concealed spot to keep it, and in the event of an emergency, we would all meet there and take off only when we are all present," Grissom planned, and they admitted it was a good one. Nick had a suggestion.

"The water caves on the other side of the island would work," he suggested. Grissom nodded in approval.

"What water caves?" Sara asked.

"On the other side of the island, there's this rocky jutted out part that's almost like a cliff over the water. Under it are a series of small caves," Warrick explained, "We came across them the other day."

"Cool," Greg commented.

"It sounds perfect," Catherine agreed.

"We can stow the raft and our supplies there," Grissom said, looking at the each face illuminated by the fire, "These next two weeks are going to be all about preparation."

TBC


	17. Preparations

Author's note: Yes, I know it is short, but if it's any consolation there will be an update incredibly soon, especially considering i am in the process of writing the 20th chapter...anyhow, Chapter 18 will thicken things up even more. I consider this chapter the calm before the storm of reviews screaming "UPDATE!".

Special Thanks to El Gringo Loco for helping to make this story believable.

Spoilers: I will generally tell what spoilers the chapters contain. In this Chapter: not a lot

Summary: When Ecklie chooses Grissom's team to head to a conference in London, the Las Vegas CSI nightshift couldn't be more excited. Then their plane crashes in the sea. Now Grissom, Catherine, Nick, Warrick, Sara, and Greg are stranded on a deserted island and their only way home is to survive.

Disclaimer: I don't own CSI.

Surviving the Storm

Chapter 17: Preparations

"Would you get out of the raft?" Nick asked, crossly, looking back at a sheepish-looking Greg Sanders.

"What? It's not like I'm heavy or anything!" Greg protested. He was seated in the raft while the others pulled him along in the shallows of the water.

"Greg! Out! Now!" Grissom ordered, and the former lab rat could not do anything but obey.

"You'd think they'd let the sickie ride in the raft," he mumbled as he clamoured out of the raft and into the cool water.

"Oh, now you want to play the 'I was sick' card?" Catherine asked with raised eyebrows. He shook his head and walked beside Sara, who grinned at him. Nick and Grissom were in front, pulling the raft filled with food, water, and some of the supplies that they wouldn't be needing at the moment. Warrick and Catherine pulled a bundle of floating coconuts behind them, while Greg and Sara walked in the middle, lending a hand here and there, or in Greg's case, hitching a ride.

For the past two days, they had been gathering as much food as possible and storing as much water as possible inside hollowed out coconut shells. They only kept about half of what they gathered and the rest went to the raft. Today, they were making the journey to the water caves to stow their bulging raft. The guys no longer went on individual hunts. Instead, all six of them went to gather or do walk-throughs of the island. Even Greg was allowed to come, providing he took it easy. Grissom was starting to become annoyed with this fact.

"Are we there yet?" Greg whined.

"Almost," Warrick said patiently, for he was the only one capable of a pleasant response to that question. Since their stay on the island, Grissom and Nick's tolerance levels had decreased drastically. As for Catherine and Sara, they had always been two with very short fuses.

Warrick was right, however. Within minutes, they had arrived at the cliff-like formation. A hill led up to the top of the cliff, but the CSIs were more concerned with the rocky formations under the cliff, where the water was deeper and where it meant concealment.

"We're going to have to swim underneath it," Nick said as the water levels changed from above him knees to above his waist.

"If there's sharks under there, I'll kill you," Catherine threatened, but she swam anyways. Sara had moved to help Grissom and Nick swim with the raft, while Greg helped Warrick and Catherine with the strung-up bundle of coconuts. Grissom and Warrick navigated a safe path through the rocks and under the cliff. Soon they had entered a cave large enough to conceal the raft.

"Alright, Nick, Greg, tie these to those rocks," Grissom called handing them a pair of ropes. Nick tied his to a formation skinny on the bottom and fatter on the top. Using a combination of his knowledge of the Discovery Channel and his old Boy Scout training, he tied it. Greg looped his around one piece of rock and then strung it around another for safekeeping.

"Got it!" Greg called when he had finished.

"Good! Cath, pass me your rope!" Grissom said. She gave him her piece and watch as he thread it though one of the loops on the raft, double knotting it. Then he said to Warrick, "Pass me yours," Warrick did so and Grissom did the same as he did for the first one.

"Can we get the Hell outta here, now?" Sara called. They all swam out in agreement.

"Do you think that will hold?" Catherine asked as they reached where they could touch the bottom.

"It had better," Nick smarted, "It's our only shot."

"It will," Grissom stated, "Come on. Lets go through the trees back to camp. We need to know more than one way to get here."

"We should probably see how long it would take us to get here in the event we are spotted," Warrick suggested.

"Like a drill?" Sara asked.

"Yeah," Warrick said, climbing up the hill to the cliff, "We wouldn't be able to leave unless we are all in the raft," he added, and everyone agreed with this statement. No one would be left behind.

"We also need to patrol the island for possible hiding spots, in case we are chased," Nick suggested.

"Good idea," Grissom agreed.

"And we could make traps to hinder the mobsters in the forest," Greg added, clearly excited about this.

"Er…another good idea," Grissom said hesitantly. Nick and Warrick obviously thought this was a good plan.

"We could make a trip wire!" Nick exclaimed.

"Right into the river!" Warrick added.

"Maybe block some paths," Greg injected.

"We could dig a pitfall," Nick suggested. Catherine and Sara looked at each other with raised eyebrows.

"Way too much testosterone," Catherine commented.

"Well, they need to work it off somehow," Sara agreed, and both women chuckled. Nick, Warrick, and Greg mapped out their plans all the way back to camp while Sara and Catherine teased them and Grissom led them quietly along.

The next four days moved quickly for the castaways. After breakfast they would go out and gather food and scope out hiding spots. It didn't take long for them to become familiar with the island. They knew where there were good hiding spots and what paths would provide the least resistance. Then Greg, Nick, and Warrick would disappear for hours in the brush, only appearing for meals. They created all sorts of trip ups for their enemies and then showed them to the others. There were pits, trip wires, falling rocks, blockades that could only be bypassed by swinging on the branch overhead, and little annoying things that they were sure their enemies would not appreciate. They also set up little safe points where the castaways could hide if need be.

While at camp, there would be basic chores being done, along with fashioning tools they would need. Grissom had made several paddles to be stored in the raft to aid in a quick getaway. Catherine often sat by him when he was at camp and would work on refining Warrick's fishing net. It still had his old blue shirt, but the stick were elongated and instead of just being held by the shirtsleeves, it was now woven at different points. On the rare occasions when the guys were at camp, they had made a small, portable raft made of sticks strung together. They claimed it could be used to hold a fire if they were out on the ocean.

Because they were hardly ever all at camp at once, they had worked out a system that if the criminals came and saw them, those on the beach would quickly make smoke by throwing palm leaves on the fire. This was also handy in enabling drills.

Not long after they had established this new order, Greg found himself running full tilt through the trees, bypassing his traps with ease. He ventured a look over his shoulder, but wound up running into the trip wire that sent him plummeting into the river. He got up, cursing, but he ran some more, fearing what could catch up to him. He was all alone, separated from Nick and Warrick when they saw the signal fire. If there was someone behind him…

"Shit," he muttered, just bypassing a blockade. Soon he reached the edge of the trees, and turned to slide down the hill on the edge of the cliff. He easily swung into the water and swam to the raft to find the other five already waiting. Grissom and Warrick helped him up.

"Are they here?" he panted.

"Nope, but we're going to have to do a Hell of a lot better than fifty-six minutes," Catherine quipped looking at the watch in her hand. Greg groaned. It was a drill. He flipped on his back, panting.

"What took you, Greggo?" Nick asked, looking down at his friend.

"Tripped the river trap," he breathed.

"Oh, and who said they weren't going to be dumb enough to get caught in his own traps?" Sara asked, rhetorically. He glared at her.

"It was better than the first drill, though," Grissom said positively, "Even if Greg did trip up."

"You wait, old man," Greg mumbled darkly.

"Who are you calling old, Greg?" Grissom asked, "I was the second one here and it was Catherine who called the drill."

"I smell conspiracy," Greg said scowling. Gil and Catherine exchanged looks.

"C'mon, let's go home," Warrick said, diving into the water. The other five followed suit.

TBC


	18. Panic on the Home Front

Author's note: I can forsee many reviews telling me to update. Vegas and the island start to intertwine. The plot thickens even more...

Special Thanks to El Gringo Loco for helping to make this story believable.

Spoilers: I will generally tell what spoilers the chapters contain. In this Chapter: not a lot

Summary: When Ecklie chooses Grissom's team to head to a conference in London, the Las Vegas CSI nightshift couldn't be more excited. Then their plane crashes in the sea. Now Grissom, Catherine, Nick, Warrick, Sara, and Greg are stranded on a deserted island and their only way home is to survive.

Disclaimer: I don't own CSI.

Surviving the Storm

Chapter 18: Panic on the Home Front

"Hey, Tito, what brings you to Vegas?" a slender Hispanic man with a pointed face asked, allowing his friend entrance into his apartment. Tito hesitated.

"Just dropping by on an old friend, Sly," he said. Sylvester "The Fox" Vasquez surveyed him with an odd look.

"What's going on, Tito?" he asked. Tito hesitated again.

"Nothing," he said, but there was something about the way he was looking at Fox that unnerved the other. It was almost as if there was pity flashing in his beady eyes.

"How did the run with the Boss go?" Fox asked, trying to pry. Tito whimpered as he looked into his friend's face. He had known Sly since they were in Kindergarten together.

"It wasn't enough, Sly. The Ring wants more," he relented. Fox's eye's widened.

"What more do they want? I paid them. They got my business!" he cried, shocked and outraged.

"I know, Sly! But they know you went to the Cubans for cheaper stuff. They called you a traitor! They want you dead! They're going to ice you in a week!" Tito blabbed. For a moment, Fox could not speak. Then he rose and started pacing.

"This can't be happening!" he panicked, "Maybe…maybe if I could pay them back?" he asked his friend.

"They might accept it," Tito agreed, "But where are you going to get that kind of money?" he asked. Money. That was the key question. Fox thought for a moment.

"C'mon, brother. We're going to the Tangiers," he announced, grabbing his coat. Tito followed, understandably anxious.

The Blackjack dealer wordlessly changed all of Fox's and Tito's cash into chips. Tito, being the friend that he was, lent his money to the Fox, who bet half of it. The dealer dealt two cards to Fox and waited for his response. Fox tapped the table, indicating he wanted another card. Then he took another and another until he was satisfied with a 20. The dealer flipped his cards to reveal an eleven. He hit and got a jack, giving him a twenty-one. He wordlessly took away Fox's money.

"Should we try something else?" Tito asked cautiously. Fox shook his head.

"I'm a Blackjack man, Tito," he replied, and bet his remaining cash. This time he hit so many times, he busted.

"I'm sorry, Sly," Tito said as they left the table. Fox was overwhelmed and looked scared. He nervously raked his hands through his dark hair and looked wildly around.

"Do I have to, Grandpa?" a whiny, strawberry blond girl asked her grandfather as they passed the two Hispanic men. Fox perked up when he saw Sam Braun, the casino mogul, walk by.

"Yes, Lindsey. Your Grandmother and I want you to come to dinner with us and our friends," Sam was saying, "Now, go back up to the suite and get ready. Excuse me, Honey," he said, walking swiftly passed her and toward his pit boss. Lindsey stood, glowering at him.

"Fox?" Tito asked, worriedly, for his friend had a hungry expression in his eye, liking he was eyeing his prey.

"Tito, that is how I'm going to survive," Fox said hungrily, "Bring the car around, Tito, and have the back door open for me," he ordered. Tito obeyed and went to fetch the car. Fox followed Lindsey to reception where he saw her sit in the lounge chairs. He grabbed a pen and paper, scribbled a note, and then he took full advantage of the empty lobby. He approached the girl.

"Excuse me, could you show me how to get to the Palms?" he asked. She quirked an eyebrow.

"Go outside and go east on the Boulevard," she answered swiftly. He feigned a look of confusion.

"Could you possibly come point me in the right direction?" he asked, gesturing to the doors. She started for a moment and shrugged. She followed him out on the street.

"You drive-" Lindsey was cut off when she was pushed into a dark car and was knocked unconscious as it sped away.

"Where is she?" Lily asked an hour later when her granddaughter still had not shown up for dinner. There was a mixture of annoyance and worry in her voice.

"I swear, if she ran off again…" Sam trailed off, rising from his seat, but was interrupted as his secretary came running. Amber was a ghostly white and there was shock written on every inch of her young face.

"Mr. Braun! Mr. Braun! You need to see this!" she screamed, gasping, holding out a scribbled on piece of hotel paper.

"What-" he started, looking over the note. He paled and set it in front of Lily, before he left the table with a set look on his face. Lily watched him go with confusion, but as soon as she read the scribble on the paper, her confusion morphed into fear and anxiety for her granddaughter.

Sam, however, was a man on a mission. He quickly assembled his security personal and told them what had happened. Then he had no choice but to call Jim Brass. While Sam never saw eye-to-eye with the surly detective, or Catherine's friend Gil, for that matter, even Sam had to admit that he was one of the best detectives in Vegas. After he did this, Sam went to his vault and withdrew ten million dollars. By the time he returned to the lobby, Lily was already talking and crying to Brass. Sam approached them, and without even so much as a 'hello', Sam said:

"I want you to bring her back alive."

"So do I," Brass agreed, and then he gestured to the middle-aged woman beside him, "Sam, this is Linda Craig, one of the criminalists working the case."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Braun. I'm going to ask you some questions about your granddaughter," she explained calmly, almost soothingly. Brass tried his best not to judge, but he had already know from experience that Linda Craig possessed none of the no-nonsense attitude Catherine was known for and that Craig emphasized with the victims.

"I know what this is about. They want money. They went after my granddaughter to get to me," Sam emphasized, "Have you seen the ransom note yet?"

"That's in the hands of my colleague-"

"I can save you some time. It said:

Braun- If you ever want to see your granddaughter again, you'll send $10 million to Flamingo and Covalt.

There's security tapes upstairs. Go look at them because anything I tell you won't help bring Lindsey back," Sam told her forcefully before walking towards the door with a suitcase in his hand. Craig looked dumbfounded.

"You review the tapes and I'll follow the money," Brass hinted, following Sam out the door, praying to God they Lindsey was alright.

When Lindsey finally regained consciousness, she didn't know where she was. Looking around, she deduced it was a cheap apartment. She tried to move her arms, but found she was duct taped to a chair. She screamed, but the sound was muffled by the gag in her mouth. The sound was enough, however, to gain the attention of her kidnappers. The one with the pointed face that she had seen earlier knelt down and smiled at her.

"Lindsey, right? Don't worry, Sweetheart. You'll be just fine when Grandpa sends us the money," he explained, laughing. His accomplice did not seem quite so sure about this as his partner was.

"Fox, we could go to prison for this," he said to the pointed-faced man. Fox shook his head.

"Still safe from Boss," he muttered feverishly, over and over, scaring Lindsey more than she already was.

"What about Braun, Fox? What do you think Braun will do to us when he finds out we're the ones who kidnapped the kid?" the other man asked, still worried.

"He's still better than Boss!" Fox almost shouted. There was a loud crack at his words and the chain-lock on the door shattered as it was forced open. For a moment, Lindsey thought it was the police, but she was wrong. Instead, there was a tall, fat man with a moustache and a black pointed beard framed in the doorway.

"You're right, Fox. Braun is nothing compared to me," he said, eerily calm.

"B-Boss-" Fox stuttered. Boss swiftly crossed the room and had fox by the throat. Lindsey barely noticed as five other men filed in and shut the door.

"So this is how you thought you could repay me? By ransoming off Sam Braun's grandkid?" Boss bellowed, tightening his hold on Fox's neck, before letting him slink to the floor.

"B-B-Boss, please-"

"Get up, you worthless piece of shit!" a blond man next to Boss ordered, drawing a gun to Fox's head. Lindsey drew a breath, but the weapon wasn't fired.

"No one will miss the two of you morons," Boss said scowling, "But this kid is a different matter."

"Please, Boss, just let her go!" Tito begged. He got kicked by the Asian man standing over him.

"I can't do that now because she's seen us, you idiots!" Boss growled. Lindsey's insides froze as she worked out what this meant. She wouldn't get out of this alive.

"Should we take her to the island, Boss?" a man with a think German accent asked. Boss seemed to smile approvingly.

"Excellent idea, Karl. We're going there anyway. What's one more body?" Boss asked rhetorically. Lindsey shook as Boss gave his orders.

"Take them to the car, boys. Then we're going to the airstrip," he said. A black man roughly untapped Lindsey and led her to a long black car, a gun sticking in her back the entire way.

And they drove. They drove two days straight, only stopping to switch drivers and along the side of the road every so often. Lindsey didn't know where they were going, but she was dreading it. At least she was allowed to sit in the back seat instead of the trunk, providing she had good behaviour. This meant that if she signalled for help, she'd be dead in two seconds flat.

She couldn't stop the thoughts whirling inside her head. She didn't want to die. She wanted to go home. She wanted her grandparents and her aunt and even Jim. She wanted to go back to the casino and forget this like a bad dream. She couldn't. Every time she thought this, a lump would form in her throat and she would be close to tears. And then the next thought that would flitter into her mind and the tears would fall. At least she would be with her mom again.

A few hours after they entered Florida, the car swerved off the main road and down a gravel path through a secluded patch of trees. She shuddered again. After an hour or so, they came to a stop. She was seized roughly by the arm and hauled outside onto an airstrip. Sitting on the gravel was a large seaplane. Lindsey had always wanted to ride in one. Now she didn't want to. She was bound with duct tape again and she, Tito, and Fox were drug onto the plane. And then they were off to God only knew where.

"Sam!" Brass called, hours after he had waited for the kidnappers to claim the money. Nobody showed. The elderly man turned quickly, searching the detective's face.

"Do you have anything?" Sam asked, anxiously. Brass hesitated.

"We know who abducted Lindsey, Sam," he said, "Sylvester Vasquez and an accomplice."

"So? What are you waiting for? Go find Lindsey!" Sam almost shouted in frustration. Brass would have none of it.

"We tried, Sam," he said firmly, "We went to Vasquez's apartment. It was tossed and there was no one there. Lindsey must have been there at some point because we found duct tape used to bind her on the floor. We have no other leads," he explained. Sam's shaking hand went to his mouth, and then he looked angrily at Brass.

"So you're just giving up?" he asked coldly. To his amazement, Brass shook his head.

"No, Sam. Every guy in the force has a case that they'll work their whole lives trying to solve. This is mine," he stated, and Sam believed him.

TBC


	19. Unexpected Visitors

Author's note: my plot thickening paid off. Nothing can spur inspiration like sitting in bordom at work...anyways I have news: there are 22 chapters and all are completed. And now a present to GC fans

Special Thanks to El Gringo Loco for helping to make this story believable.

Spoilers: I will generally tell what spoilers the chapters contain. In this Chapter: not a lot

Summary: When Ecklie chooses Grissom's team to head to a conference in London, the Las Vegas CSI nightshift couldn't be more excited. Then their plane crashes in the sea. Now Grissom, Catherine, Nick, Warrick, Sara, and Greg are stranded on a deserted island and their only way home is to survive.

Disclaimer: I don't own CSI.

Surviving the Storm

Chapter 19: Unexpected Visitors

"I feel so grungy," Sara said, dunking her head in the water for the umpteenth time.

"Ah, relax, Sara. We're the only ones who look at you," Nick said when she surfaced.

"He's trying to say he checks you out, Sar," Warrick quipped, just before he was forced to dive underwater to avoid two splashes coming at his face.

"Nick and Sara sleepin' by the fire…When I say they were naked, I am no liar," Greg sang. Nick dove at him, and poor Greg was a hair too late to avoid being held underwater until Grissom showed mercy and ordered Nick off of him.

"Call me crazy but I missed his little songs," Catherine sighed, floating beside Gil, who chuckled along with her as they watched Sara chase after Greg.

"What would we do without them?" Gil mused, almost affectionately.

"It would be a lot quieter," she commented dryly. He smirked at her as they watched 'the kids' play in the water. Suddenly Warrick stopped.

"You hear that?" he asked and everyone paused and heard the unmistakable sound of an engine. Six pairs of eyes looked at the sky and they saw a seaplane turn in its descent.

"They're early!" Sara yelped.

"They're thugs, do you really think they go by a schedule?" Greg asked, turning to run up the beach.

"Just run for it!" Grissom bellowed. They swam for the beach, hindered by the water. When they finally made it to the beach, the seaplane was coasting their waterfront. Despite the odd sensation in their legs, they kept running up the sand and passed the shelter and into the brush, stopping at a near hiding spot to listen in.

"They went this way, Boss!" they heard a guy with an Asian accent shout.

"Check that out!" and they knew that he meant their shelter. At that moment, Nick and Warrick left the safe spot and hurriedly crept closer, disregarding the silent protests of the rest. They could see they were in the shelter. Nick bolted for the fire and grabbed a piece of burning wood by the cooler end and threw it on the roof of the shelter. Warrick followed suit and soon the 'Fire Hut' was ablaze. The mobsters ran out screaming and cussing.

"There they are!" a black man shouted, just as he pulled the trigger on his weapon.

"Time to go, War?" Nick called.

"Run for it!" Warrick shouted. They both bolted back to the trees and they knew they had six other men on their tails.

"Are you guys-" Sara started.

"Run!" Nick yelled, pulling her along with him.

BANG!

"Go! Go! Go!" Grissom shouted. They all started running again, deeper into the trees.

BANG! More gunshots echoed and they ran faster.

BANG! Somewhere in the chaos, Grissom had lost the rest of them. He heard another shot and ducked involuntarily, though it was no where close to him.

BANG! There was another shot, this time coupled with a scream of pain. He stopped cold and doubled back. He knew who's scream it was.

"CATH!" he shouted, brushing twigs out of his face as he ran as fast as he could. He stumbled onto the path and found her, clutching her arm as she tried to run. He could see blood.

"Cath!" he called.

"Gil!" she gasped.

BANG! They both heard the empty shot and the shouts that accompanied it. He pulled her back into the bush with him and helped her run with him.

"Stop!" he hissed, pulling her down into the thick underbrush. She clutched him, shaking as they heard someone stomp by. As soon as he was sure they were safe, he gestured for her to stand.

"C'mon. I know a place we can rest," he said, shaking, as she wordlessly followed him through the bushes.

"Greg! The Wire!" Nick shouted back as he and Sara jumped over a trip wire. They paused for a moment to let Greg catch up. He was pleased when Greg bypassed it easily.

"Keep going!" Greg called. He followed Nick and Sara as they wove through the twists and turns of the forest, the light becoming dimmer and dimmer as the sun set.

"Guys, I can't see!" Sara gasped. They stopped for a moment.

"Nick, she's right. It's almost dark!" Greg panted. Nick looked undecided for a moment.

"There should be a safe spot up ahead. We'll crash for the night," he said finally, just as they heard more shouts behind them, "Hurry!" he cried. He was right. They came to one of their safe hiding spots, which was concealed deep in the thick undergrowth. Under the plants, the guys had dug a small hole, which was shielded from view. This was where they stopped, but none of them fell asleep.

Warrick was all alone as he ran as hard as he could. At least two guys had been in hot pursuit of him, at least until he lead them to a trip wire and bypassed a blockade. He could still hear them cursing behind him. It was getting harder to see. Though he was sure that the sun was still in the sky (They were swimming before dinner), the darkness of the forest made it seem like night. He needed to find a place to hole up for the night. Then he remembered the thicket up ahead. If he could just make it…

"I can't see a damn thing!" one of his assailants cried.

"Lets go back to the plane and get flashlights!" the other yelled. Warrick breathed and crept along almost silently. Without much difficulty he found the woody, leafy thicket and he knew no light would penetrate the branches. He squeezed in, and like the rest, he lay awake on the ground, listening for the slightest indication of a predator.

Lindsey strained to listen to the shouts outside the seaplane as her captors discussed what to do about the people on the beach. Even she saw the six outlines scurrying away.

"Boss, it's getting dark!" one of the thugs, Rizzo, complained, "Can't we just ice Tito, Fox, and the kid and go?" This earned a smack from Boss.

"You idiot!" he scowled, "I'm not about to commit three murders with a bunch of witnesses!"

"But Boss-" another started to complain, but he apparently thought better of it. Boss spoke again.

"I want two of you in the trees tonight. Switch off every few hours. Then in the morning, we'll all go find those rats!" he explained.

"What about them?" Johnny asked, roughly gesturing a thumb at the closed seaplane.

"They're tied up and even if they did escape, where would they go? I'm not leaving this island until every last rat is dead," the Boss said menacingly, his followers looking slightly afraid of their leader as his face was illuminated in the blazing fire of the trees that had caught fire. Lindsey's plan was already formulated in her mind.

"Just back here," Grissom whispered, helping Catherine into the small cave on the side of the rocky hill. The small opening was concealed by overgrown shrubs, making it the perfect place to hide.

"Perfect," she murmured. He squeezed in after her and together, they crawled deeper inside. Light shone through a large crack in the ceiling. While it was dim light, it was still enough for Gil to see the pain in Catherine's face as he told her to remove her hand from her wounded arm.

"Does it hurt bad?" he asked softly, as he looked at the wound for a moment. Their was no bullet hole. There was just a small, bloody gash on the edge of her skin. It looked as if the bullet grazed her and left a shallow impression.

"No," she said bravely, "How bad is it?" she asked. He smiled reassuringly at her.

"It looks like it was just grazed. We'll still need to clean it up, though," he said. Suddenly he ripped a bit of his own shirt, fluidly in one motion, something which surprised Catherine a little.

"Impressive," she whispered, causing him to blush.

"Thanks," he mustered. He gently wiped the blood from her arm and then applied a little pressure to stop the bleeding. She watched him work unflinchingly.

"Thank you," she said, smiling at him.

"I could have done a better job with the first aid kit," he said quickly, "When we get back to the raft, I'll redo it properly," he promised. After a few moments, the blood stopped flowing and he tied the strip of shirt around her arm, tight enough to put pressure on the wound, but loose enough for the blood to continue to circulate.

"You came back for me," she said softly, looking into his cerulean blue eyes.

"Of course I did," he shrugged, just moving his lingering hands from her shoulder and down her arm, causing shivers to course through her spine.

"Thank you," she said. Finally he looked her in the eyes properly.

"I said I wouldn't let anything happen to you, Catherine," he replied just as softly. Their eyes were locked and neither could have looked away, even if they had wanted to. They weren't sure who moved first, but one moment their faces were inches apart, and the next, their lips locked and neither wanted to break the kiss. It was deepened as Gil cupped her cheek with his hand, and broken only when they needed oxygen.

"Catherine-"

"Shh," she whispered, capturing his mouth in hers once more. Their tongues played with each other as he slowly moved in a position where he was in front of her, his hands traveling along her body with an agonizing slowness. With a moan, she succumbed to him as he gently lay her on the smooth stone ground, her good arm weaving around his neck as he proceeded to make love to her.

For the rest of the night, they forgot everything, the criminals, the fire, and the danger and just gave in to all the dormant desires they had felt for each other since even before the plane crash.

TBC

AN: Reminds self and others that this is a T-rated fic. How I wanted to elaborate. And if you don't like the ship, don't flame me. That's just immature.


	20. Escape To the Raft

Author's note: enjoy.

Special Thanks to El Gringo Loco for helping to make this story believable.

Spoilers: I will generally tell what spoilers the chapters contain. In this Chapter: not a lot

Summary: When Ecklie chooses Grissom's team to head to a conference in London, the Las Vegas CSI nightshift couldn't be more excited. Then their plane crashes in the sea. Now Grissom, Catherine, Nick, Warrick, Sara, and Greg are stranded on a deserted island and their only way home is to survive.

Disclaimer: I don't own CSI.

Surviving the Storm

Chapter 20: Escape to the Raft

Lindsey had been wide-awake for hours, waiting for Boss and his cronies to leave to search the trees. She had been lucky. All of Boss's men seemed to ignore her, or at least kept their distance because they were afraid of what Boss might do. Lindsey had succeeded in keeping her virginity, but what about her life? As soon as all the people that had been on the beach were killed, it would be her turn to meet a copper bullet. She shuddered. Boss was right when he said that his captives wouldn't be able to go anywhere, but Lindsey had to try to escape with her life. Her mother would've. The thought of Catherine alone gave her a newfound strength and gave her hope. If she was going to die, Lindsey was going to make it as difficult as possible for Boss and his gang.

At first light, her captors were awake, loading their guns with more ammo and eating what little food they had. And then finally, Lindsey's moment came. The six thugs had disappeared into the trees ten minutes ago; Lindsey had watched them go through the seaplane window. She wriggled around the cab, her hands taped behind her back, while Tito and Fox regarded her strangely from their positions, tied up on the floor. She didn't care. Finally, she made it to the wall, and with tremendous difficulty, she heaved herself into a standing position. She hopped over to the back of the plane and found a crowbar resting on some crates. She turned backwards, grasping the crowbar in her hands, she leaned it on a 45-degree angle between the floor and the crate. Careful not to apply too much pressure, she eased into the pointed end, and felt the metal tear through the tape around her wrists and felt the cool metal dig lightly into her back. She grinned and pulled her hands apart. She removed the duct tape stuck on her wrists and preceded to get the gag out of her mouth and undo the tape around her feet. Then she ran to the front, bypassing Tito and Fox without a word. She was about to open the door when a shiny piece of metal caught her eye. It was a gun. After a moment, she grabbed it, putting the safety on the same way she saw her mother do it. The weapon felt heavy in her hands. Tearing her gaze away from the metal handgun, she wrenched open the door and jumped down into the shallow water, taking in the view. The sun shone down on her, casting a shiny glow along the beach. The fire in the trees was barely visible, but smoke filled the air.

She was free! Her mother would've been so proud! Regaining her senses, Lindsey took off down the beach, avoiding the trees. Boss and his men were in there and, witness or not, they wouldn't hesitate to finish her off. She ran until the sand gave way to rock. She stopped to catch her breath.

"Bastards must have knew we were coming!" she froze as she heard one of Boss's men, Karl, exclaim from up the beach. She couldn't see him, but she knew he was coming. She didn't dare take aim with the gun. Panicking, she ran into the trees, struggling to run in the dense undergrowth, finally tripping and falling.

Instead of landing in the dense vegetation or on the hard ground, she landed on the laps of three very stunned people. She tried to get up, to run, put she was being held back.

"Lindsey?" one of the people asked. She recognized his voice. She turned her head and came face to face with a shocked Greg Sanders. He looked scruffy and the spiky hair Lindsey had always adored was long and drooping into his boyish face.

"Greg!" she exclaimed, jumping on him, hugging him. She couldn't believe it! He had been on the plane with her mother. Did this mean she survived too? Lindsey looked over at the other two. It was Nick and Sara!

"Oh My God! Lindsey!" Sara exclaimed, turning to look at the girl properly.

"What- How-" Nick was lost for words.

"I was kidnapped by these guys and-"

"Over here!" she head Rizzo yell. He must have heard them.

"Shit!" Greg cursed.

"Let's get outta here!" Nick shouted. All four got up and started running, Greg pulling Lindsey along.

BANG! There was a gunshot. Lindsey yelped in surprise.

"C'mon, Linds!" Greg called, pulling her along. There were more shouts and gunshots ahead, but Greg pulled her to the side.

"Jump!" he said, and she obeyed. He pulled her behind a large tree and they heard people rush passed. When they were gone, Greg and Lindsey slumped down, catching their breaths. Somehow they had lost Nick and Sara in the chase.

"Alright, how did you get here?" he whispered. She told him everything, from when Fox had asked her directions to when she escaped the seaplane.

"I grabbed this," she said, handing him the small handgun. He looked at it, and after ensuring that the safety was on, he tucked it in his pants.

"We might need this. Now I want you to keep up with me, okay?" he asked. She nodded and followed him through the forest.

"Nick!" Sara gasped looking down the ravine.

"Go, Sara!" he almost yelled, "I'll hold them off!" They could hear the two mobsters coming through the trees, delayed when they sprung a trap where coconuts fell on them.

"But Nick-" she pleaded.

"No! Go!" he said again, a hint of anxiety showing in his voice. He nudged her towards the edge. She looked him in the eyes and could see the worry and fear in his eyes.

"Please, Sara," he begged. She nodded and slid down, watching him as she went.

"There he is!" one of them shouted. Nick took off along the edge of the top of the ravine. From the sounds, she deduced that both guys were chasing him.

"Please, God, Nick," she prayed and she ran along the bottom in the same direction he was going. Suddenly there was a shout of pain and she watched, horrified as Nick fell off the edge, through the trees and overgrown shrubs, landing hard at the bottom. Sara wanted to cry out, but couldn't. She ran over to his motionless form, wading through the vegetation until she found him.

"Nick!" she sobbed, collapsing next to him, "Please, Nick! Please don't be-" she couldn't say it. She was shaking badly as more sobs racked her body. He couldn't be dead! He couldn't leave her! If he died it would be her fault. She would never be able to live with that. She sobbed some more over his chest and it only just registered in her mind that he was still breathing.

"Nick! Nick, please, wake up!" she cried, coming to her senses, and supporting his head, "Come on, Nicky!"

"You're talkin' really loud, Sara," he moaned, wincing with pain. She laughed in relief.

"Nick Stokes, you fool!" she laughed in relief. He mustered a weak smile.

"I know," he said softly.

"What hurts?" she asked, stroking his forehead.

"Everything," he moaned, "We've gotta go, Sar." He tried to get up, but fell over. She caught him.

"C'mon, there's a safe spot up ahead," she said, supporting him. He yelped as she touched his shoulder. She moved to his other side and helped him limp through the trees. Finally, they made it.

"I'm okay, Sara. We've got to go," he insisted. She sat him down.

"No. We're going to rest a bit, Nick," she said firmly, taking a quick look at his leg. It didn't look too bad, but it was already staring to bruise, "What hurts, Nick?" she asked again. He breathed out.

"Shoulder, ribs, leg," he panted. She cupped his face.

"Why on earth would you do something like that?" she asked. He almost laughed.

"Better me than you," he replied. She shook her head.

"Nick, if anything had of happened to you, I don't know what I'd do," she admitted; "If you had of-" again she faltered.

"That's why I had to lead them away, Sara. I couldn't let them hurt you," he said sincerely, "I care too much about you."

"I care about you, too, Nicky," she finally said, staring into his warm hazel eyes. She leaned over and pecked him on the cheek. They looked at each other, and finally Nick gave way to sleep, with Sara watching over him.

"Why the Hell is it always me?" Warrick muttered to himself as he hurdled over some low branches. Once again, two mobsters were stalking him and once again he was leading them through his traps. He knew exactly which way he wanted to take them. It was coming up and he jumped over the trip wire and soundlessly landed in the water. He scurried across the waist-deep water and up the next bank, looking back just in time to see a black guy and an Asian trip over the wire and land face first in the water.

Warrick would have laughed had he not been in a hurry. He ran as hard as he could, weaving into the trees, knowing that he could hole up under the roots of a large tree. He came to it and swung down crawling under the uprooted parts and back into the earth, but found it already inhabited by Greg…and a very unexpected person: Lindsey Willows.

"Lindsey?" he whispered incredulously.

"Warrick!" she squealed quietly, hugging him.

"How-"

"Long story short," Greg whispered, "She was kidnapped by Tito and Fox, who hoped to get a ransom from Sam. Boss got wind of this and whisked all three of them here to ice…"

"And then they saw us and decided to wait to do the job," Warrick finished, "Small world."

"I escaped," Lindsey said proudly. He softly chuckled.

"You sure did, Kid," he agreed.

"Here, War," Greg said, nudging him with the gun. Warrick stared at it.

"Where did you get that?" he asked.

"I stole it from the plane," Lindsey told him. He stared at her, even more surprised.

"She gave it to me, but I know you're the better shot, Warrick," Greg insisted.

"Are you coming with us, Warrick?" Lindsey asked. He smiled at her.

"Of course. We should get going. The coast is clear," he announced. He led them through the trees; every so often stopping to be sure it was safe. Finally they came to a stop at the edge of the trees.

"Why are we stopping?" Lindsey whispered.

"Listen, Linds, we have a raft hidden under that peak," Warrick explained, "We're going to use it to leave the island once everybody is there-"

"My mom, too?" she asked, finally plucking up the courage to ask about her mother.

"Yeah. When she gets there, if she's not there now," Warrick answered patiently, "Now here's the plan. We'll go one at a time. Greg will go first, then Lindsey, and then me. Greg, wait for Lindsey at the edge of the hill," he explained. After they agreed on it, Greg ran as fast as he could across the opening, ducking behind the hill. Warrick covered him, taking the gun off the safety.

"My turn," Lindsey said determined. He smiled and nodded and covered the girl as she ran towards Greg. Greg slid down the hill with her and carefully dropped her in the water, helping her swim over to the raft.

Warrick was about to make the run when he saw the black thug run towards the cliff. The guy had seen Lindsey and Greg and was shooting at the water. Without hesitating, Warrick darted forwards and fired two rounds into the man's back, and watched as he fell forwards off the cliff. Warrick hurried over and peered over the edge of the peak and saw the man had half landed on one of the rocks.

BANG! A shot awoke Warrick from his transfixed horror and he looked back and saw the Asian man behind him. Warrick dived off the edge, hoping he missed the rocks.

Greg and Lindsey were just climbing onto the raft when they saw the dead mobster fall into the water. She stared at the body, horrified, until Greg blocked her view. The next thing he knew, Warrick had plunged into the water, shots following him. Both Greg and Lindsey jumped.

"I got him!" they heard a triumphant voice shout from the cliff. Before Lindsey could scream, Greg clamped a hand over her mouth and fought within himself not to cry out. He scanned the water for his friend's body, but found nothing.

"No," Lindsey mumbled against Greg's hand. Then the raft began to move and they looked back to see Warrick struggling to climb up the side. Greg pulled him up.

"What, did you think that moron actually got me?" Warrick panted. Lindsey and Greg grinned, both piling on Warrick and hugging him. He chuckled.

TBC


	21. Leaving the Island

Author's note: enjoy. You'll lynch me, but enjoy.

Special Thanks to El Gringo Loco for helping to make this story believable.

Spoilers: I will generally tell what spoilers the chapters contain. In this Chapter: not a lot

Summary: When Ecklie chooses Grissom's team to head to a conference in London, the Las Vegas CSI nightshift couldn't be more excited. Then their plane crashes in the sea. Now Grissom, Catherine, Nick, Warrick, Sara, and Greg are stranded on a deserted island and their only way home is to survive.

Disclaimer: I don't own CSI.

Surviving the Storm

Chapter 21: Leaving the Island 

"Do you see anything?" Catherine asked from her hiding spot behind the rocks. Gil reappeared, holding a finger to his lips, as he crawled towards her, clutching her hand when he reached her.

"They're down there," he whispered in her ear, his breath hot against her skin.

"What do we do?" she mouthed back. He looked around, searching for something to get them out of this position. They were on top of the rock hill and were unable to move because of two thugs below them. They couldn't go back to the beach, because most of the trees had burnt through the night and the fire was still roaring. Then Grissom saw the lever for the landslide trap. If he could just reach it…

"Trap," he moaned, pointing it out to Catherine. From their position, they would have to run to the stick holding the rocks up and pull it, risking exposure and being an open target.

"I'll go," she whispered, a determined glint in her eyes. Panic flashed in his.

"No!" he hissed, "You've already been shot once!"

"So? You can take care of me again," she replied cheekily, already getting up to leave. For a moment he didn't know what to do. If the criminals looked up, they would see Catherine, and they would shoot. If he did anything to distract them, they would still look up and they would still shoot. It seemed hopeless. He looked around wildly, trying to find some means to protect Catherine, to give her time. He picked up a rock and looked at it for a moment. Praying it would land where he wanted it too, he threw it, so that it lofted over the criminals' heads and into the nearby bush. His aim was true and both thugs looked over at the trees, just as Catherine pulled the lever. Rocks tumbled down the hill and the criminals were just too late to notice the danger and were pelted with rocks.

"You were amazing!" Catherine squealed, throwing her arms around his neck.

"You're amazing!" he exclaimed, swinging her around. They paused and looked into each other's eyes, faces inches apart. They could see triumph in the others eyes. Catherine was the one who closed the gap and pecked him on the lips, still getting used to this newfound closeness.

"Can we get out of here, now?" she asked. He chuckled.

"You took the words right out of my mouth," he said, breaking the embrace just enough so that his arm was still around her waist, guiding her though the forest. She didn't protest.

Nick awoke to pain in his shoulder, ribs, and leg and was sure that one of these body parts, if not all, were broken.

"Good, you're awake," Sara said, kneeling over him, smiling. He mustered a half smile. It calmed him to look up into her face.

"How long have I been out of it?" he asked slightly groggily.

"About an hour, give or take," she said, "Whoa, easy, there, cowboy," she told him as he tried to sit up and winced in pain.

"That hurt," he groaned. Using his left arm as support, he painfully pushed himself into a sitting position.

"Which part, the fall, or the repercussions?" she teased.

"I get two guys off of your back, and this is the thanks I get?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You were very brave," she amended, smiling warmly down at him, "And you did save my life, and if you had seriously hurt yourself doing it…" she couldn't speak.

"I'm fine, Sara…well, okay, I'm not seriously hurt," he assured her, "I would've done it all again, you know."

"And I would have done the same for you," she said sincerely. He smiled, and gently reached out and caressed her face. He eased himself up and he leaned in close, despite his protesting body. He gently brushed his lips against hers.

"I'm glad I have you on my side," he said softly. She smiled her slight gap-toothed grin that he adored so much.

"I was always on your side, Nicky," she told him, this time she leant in for a kiss. When they broke off, Nick chuckled.

"Good thing we got rid of Greg," he explained and she laughed too.

"Come on, you. Let's get to the raft," she said, giving him a hand up. She supported him as they walked through the trees.

"We can't be far," he said, "The ravine was, what, a fifteen minute walk to the cave?" he asked.

"This time it might take longer," she whispered. They moved along, stopping every so often to hide when they heard sounds in the trees, but most of the time it was just an animal. They even came across a group of pigs.

"Aww, now that really pisses me off," he whined, putting on an adorable pout. Sara giggled.

"Maybe if we find another island, there will be pigs there for you to hunt," she said. He raised an eyebrow.

"Don't even joke about that, Sar," he said. They kept going, but stopped suddenly at the edge of the trees to watch a thug turn into the bush. It was the Asian guy, and from the looks of it, he was ecstatic.

"If he's happy, nothing good can come out of it," Sara whispered anxiously.

"Let's just get to the raft," he said. With Sara's help, he was able to make it across the clearing. There wasn't a soul in sight as the slid down the hill and onto the embankment before slipping into the water.

"Nick?" she said.

"What?" he asked, focused on staying above water.

"Is that a DB?" she asked, pointing to a man floating in the water.

"Oh, shit!" Nick cursed.

"Hey! You guys can't sit there and gawk all day!" Warrick hissed from the raft, "Come on!" They swam towards the raft.

"Here, let me give you a hand," Greg said as they approached. Sara moved over.

"Nick first. Be careful with him," she ordered. Greg and Warrick heaved their buddy up by his right arm, the one that didn't pain him. Then they helped Sara up.

"What happened to him?" Warrick asked.

"He took a fall," Sara explained.

"Will he be alright?" Lindsey asked.

"I'll be fine," Nick assured her, propping himself up in the edges of the raft, "What's the deal with…." he trailed off.

"The guy was firing at Greg and Lindsey when they were in the water," Warrick started.

"And Warrick saved our butts," Greg finished.

"Did what you had to do," Sara said. Warrick smiled weakly.

"I still feel like sh- crap," he amended remembering Lindsey was present.

"Has anyone seen Grissom and Cath?" Nick asked, looking from Greg to Warrick to Lindsey. He purposely meant to change the subject after he seen how much it disturbed his friend.

"The last time I saw them was last night. Somehow, we lost them in the gunfire," Warrick thought back. Lindsey looked up at this.

"Is my mom okay?" she asked worriedly. Sara moved to put an arm around the young girl.

"Knowing Catherine, I'd say yes. If she's with Grissom, that's a definite yes," she assured her. Greg chuckled.

"What are you laughing at?" Nick asked, perplexed.

"I knew they were conspiring in the drills. How else do you think that old man beat us here all the time?" Greg said smugly, and Nick, Sara, and Warrick laughed. Lindsey just hoped that her mom and her "Uncle" Gil were okay.

"Shh!" Gil hissed in Catherine's ear as he pulled her behind a tree. She stayed perfectly still against his chest, listening to his beating heart and wondering if hers was beating just as loud as his. She listened as two sets of heavy boots crushed the grass and plants in the path on the other side of the tree that sheltered them from their hunters.

"Where the Hell is everybody?" Boss asked his companion, "I haven't seen one of those stupid rats."

"Maybe they were expecting us, Boss. There's no telling how long they've been on this island," the voice they recognized as Boss's right hand, Johnny, ventured.

"If they get off this island, we're toast," Boss said menacingly, "I'm not getting thrown back in the joint because of a the Swiss Family Robinson." Gil almost snorted at this. Then they heard a new set of footsteps join Boss and Johnny.

"Why the Hell do you look so damn pleased with yourself, Lee?" Johnny asked ruthlessly.

"I got one," Lee's Asian accent evident as he said these words.

"You got one?" Boss asked.

"Black guy. Jumped off a cliff. Shot him in the water," Lee said proudly. Gil and Catherine froze. Not Warrick. It couldn't be! It couldn't have happened!

"How many were on the beach?" they hardly heard Boss voice this question.

"Six," Johnny answered, "Counted 'em."

"Five to go," Boss said menacingly. They heard them stomp off. When she thought it was safe to move, Catherine buried her face in Gil's tattered shirt, soaking it with her tears.

"Oh, God. Not Warrick," she sobbed. Gil was breathing hard as he tried and failed to fight back tears. They stood there, supporting each other as they sobbed for their friend. He was more than just a friend. Warrick was practically a family member to both of them now. All of them were. Warrick, Nick, Sara, and Greg were the only sense of family they had on the island. It was almost like mourning the death of son. Neither of them knew how long they were standing there, sobbing, holding one another.

BANG! They jumped apart at the gunshot.

"I see 'em, Boss!" they heard Lee shout and to their horror, he heard Lee, Johnny, and Boss start towards them.

"Run!" Gil hissed, panic replacing grief on his face. Clutching hands, they ran deeper into the trees, with three angry murderers chasing them.

BANG!

"Gil?" Catherine shouted as they ran side by side.

"Yeah?" he asked, indicating he was listening.

"If we don't get out of this alive-"

"We will get out of this alive, and I love you!" he interrupted her, secretly fearing that he would never be able to say it again.

"Real romantic, Gil!" she called, ever sarcastic. He couldn't help but admire her for it.

"Don't tell me you weren't about to say the exact same thing!" he shouted over to her, stealing a glance at her as they ran.

"Is it so bad to want to tell you that I love you?" she asked, looking over at him.

"Never!" he shouted, and despite the danger, he was grinning. Suddenly she pulled him to the side of the path, bypassed it on the grass and then moved back onto the path. He looked over at her, perplexed, but soon he understood.

"There they go- AHHH!" they heard Johnny's scream of anguish.

"Get out of that pit, you idiots!" they could hear Boss yell, "That old guy and his slut aren't that far a head!" Gil skidded to a halt.

"Gil, no," Catherine pleaded, but his jaw was set as he let go off her hand and ran back towards the pitfall. He crept quietly behind Boss, the hunting trips finally paying off.

"Hey, Buddy," Gil said, Boss whirled around…right into Gil's fist. The impact caused Boss to teeter back and fall into the pit with his henchmen.

"Nobody calls her a slut," Gil called, turning on his heel and jogging back to Catherine.

"You've lost it!" she exclaimed, almost jumping into his arms.

"I think you're right!" he admitted, pulling her close.

"If you ever scare me like that again…" she threatened. He laughed.

"I had to make sure the kids' trap worked!" he defended himself, though they both knew the real reason.

"What until they hear-" she stopped short, remembering what they had learnt earlier. He did too.

"Let's go," he said softly, leading her away from the path, towards the northern end of the island. Along the way, they found it strange that they didn't encounter a soul as they made their way to the raft. Even though they knew at least five of Boss's crew were hindered, they still expected to find at least one other mobster. They didn't. With little difficulty, they made it to the cliff, but they stopped. Lee had said that was where Warrick had-

Catherine gripped his hand tighter. He lead her to the edge, and with dread, he peered over the ledge. There was no body.

"There's nothing," Catherine observed coming beside him.

"Maybe the kids-" but he couldn't finish.

"Thank God it floated away," Sara whispered, "It was giving me the creeps."

"Tell me about it," Warrick agreed, still unable to come to terms with what he had done.

"I wish Cath and Griss would get over here so we could go," Greg moaned impatiently.

"My thoughts exactly," Nick agreed. Lindsey looked anxiously though the mouth of the cave. She wanted her mother so badly. For the past month and a half, Catherine Willows had been presumed dead, and now Lindsey had the glorious opportunity to speak to her, to touch her, to hug her.

And when they heard sliding noises and a light splash in the water, the waited with bated breath. It was Grissom. And behind him, Catherine followed. Sara had to restrain Lindsey from diving into the water.

"What took you guys so long?" Warrick asked as he watched his boss and Catherine swim over. There was a look of shock and amazement on both of their faces.

"We thought you were dead!" Grissom exclaimed.

"You can't get rid of me that easily, Griss," Warrick chided him, grinning, "Oh, and by the way, we have a stowaway."

"What are you talking about?" Catherine asked. She hadn't seen her daughter struggling with Sara.

"C'mon up, Cath," Greg said, grinning like a Cheshire cat. He and Warrick pulled her up and as she was raised out of the water, the first thing she saw was a sight she thought she would never see again.

"Lindsey!" she cried, pushing past Greg and Warrick and enveloped her crying daughter into a hug.

"Watch it! You almost pushed me in!" Greg called, but he was smiling.

"Mommy!" Lindsey sobbed against Catherine's shirt. Catherine couldn't seem to grasp the fact that her daughter was there and the tears streamed down her face.

"What's going on?" Grissom asked as Warrick and Greg helped him up. Once he was onboard, he looked over and saw the last person he expected to see on the island. Catherine and Lindsey were gasping and crying, clutching each other tightly to make sure that this wasn't a dream.

"How-" Gil was speechless. Then, upon hearing Gil clearly, Lindsey momentarily released her mother and hugged her second-favourite person in the whole world.

"Uncle Gil!" she exclaimed, latching herself on his neck.

"Butterfly! What in the world are you doing here?" he asked, staring into the young girl's eyes.

"'Butterfly'?" Greg mouthed softly, looking at Sara, Nick, and Warrick.

"Long story," she said, hugging him again before returning to her mother's arms.

"Well, you could tell it to them as we get outta here, Lindsey," Nick said from his spot leaning against the edge of the raft.

"You're not paddling," Sara said firmly, grabbing a paddle.

"I told you that I'd beat you here, old man," Greg quipped, as he and Warrick untied the raft.

"Greg, do you want me to leave you on the island?" Grissom threatened. Greg shook his head and took his place beside Sara in oaring. Warrick and Grissom took the other side.

"Now, how on earth did you get here?" Catherine asked her daughter, as she, Nick, and Lindsey let the others do the work. Nick was lying propped up on his side while Lindsey sat encircled in her mother's arms. Lindsey regaled them all with her tale as the island got farther and farther away.

"…And then…wait a minute, look!" Lindsey broke off, pointing off into the distance.

TBC

Originally this was to be combined with the next chapter, but, obviously I thought I could have more fun this way and I don't want to let go of this story quite yet. It's quite comical, actually. First this was to be 21 chapters, then I split up the 20th chapter to make 22. Now I split up the 21st, so there is now going to be 23 chapters...Don't be too shocked if this number changes again!


	22. Rescue

Author's note: my story is almost done. It's bittersweet.

Special Thanks to El Gringo Loco for helping to make this story believable.

Spoilers: I will generally tell what spoilers the chapters contain. In this Chapter: anything with Sam, except built to kill. Not a fan of the ending of that.

Summary: When Ecklie chooses Grissom's team to head to a conference in London, the Las Vegas CSI nightshift couldn't be more excited. Then their plane crashes in the sea. Now Grissom, Catherine, Nick, Warrick, Sara, and Greg are stranded on a deserted island and their only way home is to survive.

Disclaimer: I don't own CSI.

Surviving the Storm

Chapter 22: Rescued

Grissom, Warrick, Sara, and Greg stopped paddling and whirled around. Nick's head snapped in the direction Lindsey was pointing and Catherine jerked around.

Was it the floatplane? Did the criminals get out of the hole? Were they in trouble?

These questions revolved around in each castaway's mind.

"Oh God," Sara breathed as her eyes found the cause of their distraction.

"It's a ship!" Greg exclaimed, refraining from jumping up and down. They all stared at the gleaming white ship cruised towards the island, and for a moment, none of them moved as they entertained the thought of what this meant.

Catherine was the first to speak.

"Pass me a paddle! We're going to that ship! Nick, find the flare gun!" she ordered, thrusting the survival kit box at him.

"Yes, ma'am," Nick responded, opening it and digging through. For a moment the others seemed to hesitate, looking at Grissom, who was looking amazed at Catherine, who was staring back at him pointedly.

"You guys heard the woman! To the ship!" he called. They immediately got to work and they paddled harder then they had ever paddled before.

"I got the gun!" Nick called, holding up a flare gun.

"Nick, it's like a camera, point and shoot," Catherine called, the ship acting as a stimulant.

"I know that!" he scowled, turned on his good shoulder, and pointed the gun at the ship and fired. The sleek white ship smoothly turned in their direction.

"YES!" Greg pumped a fist in the air.

"If that's another drug ring, I'll shoot myself," Warrick muttered.

"If that's another drug ring, they can put me to work as long as they give me a shower!" Greg exclaimed.

"Good. You need one!" Sara called. Lindsey giggled. Within moments the ship pulled along side them.

"Ahoy!" a man called down to them. They looked up and saw a sort of officer staring down at them.

"Ahoy!" they all repeated.

"Who are you?" the man asked.

"We were plane wrecked a month and a half ago," Grissom called, taking charge once more, and none of them seemed to mind, "We've been living on the island ever since!"

"From the flight going to London?" the man asked incredulously.

"Yeah! We need help!" Grissom called up.

"Of course. Any injured?" the officer asked.

"Two!" Grissom called.

"I don't count," Catherine scowled.

"Er, one that needs assistance!" Grissom amended. The officer quickly directed his crew to hoist the raft onto the deck.

"I'm Admiral William Bailey of the U.S Coast Guard. We were searching for the remains of the plane crash when we saw smoke in the distance," the man explained, helping Grissom out of the raft.

"Gil Grissom," Grissom introduced himself, pulling Catherine to her feet.

"Catherine Willows," Catherine followed suit, "And this is my daughter, Lindsey."

"Warrick Brown."

"Nick Stokes," Nick said from his position, still sitting in the raft.

"Sara Sidle," she said, kneeling beside Nick

"Greg Sanders."

"Where are you all from?" a second, younger, officer asked.

"Las Vegas" was the single group answer.

"You're a long way from home," the young officer commented, earning him a glare from his superior.

"Admiral, there's something you should know," Grissom spoke up, "A drug ring is using this island to transport illicit drugs and as a place to murder people. They arrived in a sea plane at planned intervals. We saw it with our own eyes."

"They've killed two people," Nick gasped as Sara helped him up.

"And there are two more on the floatplane," Lindsey piped up, "They were going to kill us."

"They arrived early this time and they saw us running on the beach. They chased us all over the island," Sara continued, "They shot at us and we set the island on fire."

"That's how my daughter came to be on the island. Originally, it was us six, and then Lindsey was kidnapped by the criminals, but she escaped," Catherine explained.

"They said they didn't want to leave my mom and everybody as witnesses, so they got ready to hunt them," Lindsey added.

"How many of them were there?" Bailey asked, trying to grasp all of this new information.

"Six," Warrick answered, "I-I had to shoot one in self defence," he admitted, feeling shame.

"Two were buried in a rockslide and the other three fell into a pit trap we made," Grissom took over.

"We knew they were coming back, so we prepared for them. We hid a raft to escape in and we made traps in the forest to slow them down to give us time to get out of dodge," Greg injected.

"Are they still on the island?" Bailey asked, stunned.

"We believe so," Grissom answered. Bailey nodded.

"I'm going to send some of my crew to the island to round up this drug ring and bring them into custody," Bailey explained in a decisive tone, "As for now, you are all welcome to go below deck and shower and get cleaned up," everyone perked up at this, "There's a barber on board, as well as a medic, and there should be some extra uniforms lying around in the laundry room. Our cook is also one of the finest anywhere," Greg started drooling. The Admiral continued, "As for me, I will be alerting the appropriate people about this. Excuse me," he said, then he turned to the young, eager-looking officer, and ordered, "Rodney, show them below."

"Admiral, there's something else," Warrick stepped forward.

"Yes?"

"I have one of the criminal's weapons. Lindsey stole it from their plane and gave it to Greg, who gave it to me. As I said, I used it on one of them before I was shot at myself. I had to jump into the water, so any fingerprints will be washed away, but you could probably get a ballistics match to some sort of case," Warrick explained before he carefully removed the weapon from his waist and handed it him, butt end first.

"Thank you, Mr. Brown," Bailey replied, carefully taking the piece into his white-gloved hands.

"What are you guys, cops or something?" Cadet Rodney asked before he could stop himself. He reminded Grissom a little bit of Greg; Rodney had problem keeping a lid on it, too. Admiral Bailey once again glared at the younger man. The six castaways, however, grinned.

"CSIs," they all said together. They received a small nod from the Admiral before the man walked off, alerting his crew of the situation on the island. Rodney looked crest-fallen that he wasn't included in the crew going over to the island.

"I guess you'll all want to get cleaned up," he said, very unenthusiastically.

"Yes!" Catherine almost yelled. Grissom knew he had to say it, but was a little bit apprehensive.

"Actually, I'd like that medic to take care of Catherine and Nick first," he told Rodney. Catherine stopped cold.

"Gil…" she drew out his name in a warning tome that Lindsey knew all too well.

"Catherine…" he replied, staring back at her. Everyone stopped to stare at Grissom and Catherine, sensing that this little stand-off could get ugly. Even Rodney had the good sense to stay quiet.

"Fine," Catherine finally relented, surprising everyone. Just because she relented to his demand that she saw the medic, didn't mean that she had to like it. And she voiced that fact until the men and women went their separate ways to shower and clean up. In fact after she showered and shaved, she was relatively subdued on the subject of a medic.

"I'm clean!" Catherine exclaimed joyously as she stepped out of the shower of the Coast Guard ship, in just a towel.

"I've never been so happy in my entire life!" Sara agreed, standing at the mirror in the bathroom, dressed in men's clothing several sizes too big for her, and combing her hair.

"It's just a brush and a shower," Lindsey said, raising her eyebrows. She sat on the toilet lid, watching her mother and Sara clean up. She was not keen on letting her mom get farther than six feet away from her.

"When you've lived on an island for five weeks, a shower feels like heaven," Catherine shot back, pulling an oversized men's shirt over her body, wary of her now properly bandaged arm.

"So does a toothbrush," Sara injected. Catherine almost attacked her toothbrush. Lindsey raised an eyebrow.

"I'm going to go sit on the cot," she announced. The cot was five feet away from the bathroom so it was okay in Lindsey's books.

"I can't believe this," Sara said, "We're finally rescued."

"And after all we've been through," Catherine agreed, "Storms, hunger, sickness, angry mafia guys who wanted to kill us…" Sara chuckled.

"How's the arm?" she asked.

"Kind of stings," Catherine replied, "You seemed to do alright, though."

"Only thanks to Nick," Sara acknowledged. Catherine smiled knowingly.

"Why am I not surprised?" she asked. Sara blushed.

"What about you and Grissom?" Sara asked, trying to do the same to the older woman.

"He saved my life," Catherine stated, softly and tenderly, as she finished getting ready.

Catherine exited their room and stood in the corridor, after assuring Lindsey she would be back. She walked along, only to run into a clean-shaven Gil Grissom.

"Lost the beard, I see," she quipped, quirking an eyebrow at him. He looked so…odd without his beard, but there was something attractive about seeing his bare face and buzzed hair.

"For a while anyways," he laughed, and then, "You look good, Cath."

"As opposed to…" she trailed off and laughed at his 'Oh crap' expression, "I feel good," she added. His expression relaxed.

"I'm glad," he said, smiling. Another silence had fallen between them, and for the first time in over twenty-years, they felt shy around one another.

"Catherine, I want you to know that I meant what I said when we were running. I do love you," he sincerely admitted, successfully breaking this silence, looking her directly in the eyes.

"Now this is more romantic," she replied, smiling, "I love you too," she wrapped her arms around his neck and reached up to kiss him. He responded readily and wasn't about to let her go ever again.

"Is this all you two are going to do from now on?" the ever-insistent voice of Greg Sanders broke them out of their kiss. They looked over to where Greg was standing, his hair shorter and back to its old spikiness. Next to him was a beaming clean-shaven Warrick, looking just as dashing as before their trip from Hell. Nick was on Greg's left, his left arm in a sling and he was leaning on a crutch under his right arm.

"Greg, I can still throw you off this boat," Gil threatened, still not letting go of Catherine.

"What did he do now, come up with another one of his stupid songs?" Sara asked as she and Lindsey came up behind Grissom and Catherine.

"Nah, I save those for you and Nick," Greg shrugged. Warrick laughed.

"Yeah and because you know Catherine and Griss would kick your ass," he pointed out.

"He's lucky I'm a cripple right now," Nick stated. Sara smiled and went over to him.

"Ah, Nicky, if he only knew how many times we did sleep together by the fire," Sara teased. That served its purpose. Greg's eyes practically bulged out of his head.

"What did you guys do on that island?" Lindsey questioned, looking from her mother and Gil, who were both still holding one another, to the other CSIs.

"Sorry kid, we've gotta keep it PG-13," Warrick teased. Lindsey shuddered and scowled at him.

Gil gently pressed his forehead against Catherine's as they listened to the banter.

"We're never going to have another moment alone together, are we?" he asked. She laughed.

"One good thing about the island: lots of privacy," she quipped, pecking him on the lips anyways.

"I hate to interrupt," the deep baritone of Admiral Bailey rang through the corridor, "But I'm sure you will all be pleased to know that we have five members of The Ring in custody, as well as the two prisoners on the seaplane, both of whom admitted that they kidnapped Sam Braun's granddaughter."

"That's me," Lindsey chirped.

The descent to the holding cell below deck was tense. All six castaways wanted to see for themselves that Boss and his men were captured. Admiral Bailey authorized it. Grissom lead them, followed by Warrick, Nick, Sara, Greg, and Catherine and Lindsey, who persuaded her mother to allow her access.

"Boss, I think it's the Swiss Family Robinson," Johnny called, eying them with contempt. They saw Boss rise, but since he was handcuffed to a pole, he did not go anywhere.

"You landed me in the joint!" he snarled, glaring at them.

"It was either here or in Las Vegas," Greg quipped. Sara placed a hand on Greg's shoulder.

"He's right. You wouldn't have lasted long in our town," she injected.

"Especially if Sam Braun found out you were the one who kidnapped my little girl and was planning to murder her," Catherine added, eyeing the man with equal contempt. Boss's eyes darted from Catherine to Lindsey and back again. He easily made the connection.

"Braun's gone soft," he mumbled.

"But you're still scared of him," Catherine stated. His eyes flashed.

"Used to work for Ol' Sammy. I know the business. I know what they did in the old days. I was lucky I went to jail for the embezzlement charges and not to Braun's Casino graveyard. He told me what would happen if I crossed him again, but now he's just a old man trying to get on the right side of the law. I'm not scared of him."

"You're lucky Lindsey escaped or you would have been very scared of me," Catherine replied, coolly.

"And what do I have to be scared of, Missy?" Boss asked snidely.

"Her and me," Gil injected, taking his rightful place beside Catherine.

"And me," Warrick added.

"Me too," Nick replied.

"Me three," Sara said as well.

"Dude, you mess with one of us, you mess with all of us," Greg finished. And that was definitely something for Boss to think about. And he'd have a long time to do so.

They left the holding cell and went to stand up on the deck, taking in the fresh air, looking forward to the days when they wouldn't be able to smell the salty ocean.

"Good thing I'm not sea-sick anymore," Nick joked.

"We're leaving now," the Admiral spoke, "The most important thing now is getting you home."

"Thank you, Admiral," Grissom said softly, speaking for everyone. Bailey smiled at him and mearly turned to walk along the deck to the engine room.

The six castaways and Lindsey, however, did not move from their position at the railing. As the great ship started to move away from the island, they stood in a line, and watched as the landmass that had acted as their home faded away, the image of the smouldering island forever imprinted in each of their minds.

TBC

I can't believe it is almost over!


	23. Home

Author's note: Enjoy for the last time.

Special Thanks to El Gringo Loco for helping to make this story believable.

Spoilers: I will generally tell what spoilers the chapters contain. In this Chapter: anything with Sam, except built to kill. Not a fan of the ending of that. Grave Danger, slight Fannysmackin

Summary: When Ecklie chooses Grissom's team to head to a conference in London, the Las Vegas CSI nightshift couldn't be more excited. Then their plane crashes in the sea. Now Grissom, Catherine, Nick, Warrick, Sara, and Greg are stranded on a deserted island and their only way home is to survive.

Disclaimer: I don't own CSI.

Surviving the Storm

Chapter 23: Home

"_Miracles can come true_," the news anchorwoman announced, causing Brass to roll his eyes as he surveyed the TV screen above him, "_Channel 6 News has just learned that a few short hours ago, seven people were pulled from the Atlantic by the U.S Coast Guard. Six of whom were survivors of the deadly plane crash a month and a half ago_." This caught Brass's attention.

"Did it just say-" Sofia started, but he held a finger to his lips.

"_In a life raft, floating away from a burning island, the Coast Guard found six of Las Vegas's own CSIs: Gil Grissom, Catherine Willows, Warrick Brown, Nick Stokes, Sara Sidle, and Greg Sanders, along with Willow's thirteen-year-old daughter, Lindsey, who was recently kidnapped_," the TV continued. Brass and Sofia stood in shock, staring open-mouthed at the TV.

"They're alive!" Jim cheered, hugging Sofia. At this moment Doc Robbins came in, looking just as stunned and excited as Sofia and Jim.

"_Once the tiny raft was heaved on deck, they alerted Admiral William Bailey that the drug ring, known as 'The Ring', had been using the island to deal drugs and as a place to murder anyone who opposed them. The members of 'The Ring' are now in custody_."

"They can't go anywhere without solving a crime!" Sofia exclaimed, laughing. Just then the phone rang.

"Brass," he answered, pressing the speakerphone button.

"Hey, Jim!" six familiar voices called from the other end. Their timing was impeccable.

"Guys, it's the Nerd Squad," Jim announced, laughing. Tears of joy were threatening to fall, and from the looks of Sofia and the Doc, they were already crying tears of happiness.

"Hey, Griss, Cath, Warrick, Sara, Nick, Greg," Sofia and the Doc greeted.

"Hey, Doc. Hey Sofia," Catherine said on the other end.

"Miss us?" Greg asked. They laughed.

"More than we can say," Jim answered.

"Um, we hate to ask, but we need a favour," Warrick started.

"Anything!" Jim, Sofia, and Al replied together.

"We're going to need someone to pick us up at the airport," Grissom said.

McCarran Airport was filled with people waiting to "pick the CSIs up at the airport". In front of the large group were the families of each CSI and behind was half of the LVPD and the Crime Lab. Everyone waited with bated breath. Even Nick's little nieces and nephews were silent, which was quiet amazing considering they had just got off a plane themselves. And then finally, the door opened. People filed out of the terminal, but there was no sign of the CSIs.

And then, when everybody had thought that all of the passengers had left the plane, seven figures slowly made their way through the gate.

Jim laughed in amusement and joy as he watched them approach. They looked so different, and yet they looked the same. Grissom and Catherine were in their usual spots in the centre, side by side. Gil had shaved off his beard and his hair was short and he was beaming along with the rest of his team. Catherine's hair was a little longer and a little sun-bleached. Next to her, she had her favourite accessory: her daughter. Next to Catherine were Nick and Sara. Sara looked almost exactly the same, yet she was calmer and more confident then Jim had ever seen her. Nick was hobbling next to her, his left arm in a sling and his crutch helping his right leg. While Nick was known to have a bubbly personality, he was smiling that same smile that had been absent ever since he was buried alive. Warrick and Greg were on Grissom's side. Warrick's hair was shorter than it had ever been and he couldn't seem able to grasp what was happening. There was a constant look of shock on his face. And last, but certainly not least, was Greg. Greg's spiky sun-bleached hair was back to its usual oddness, and while he seemed to exude as much confidence and obnoxiousness as ever, yet he also seemed more coy and quiet at the same time. This had something to do with his companions tuning him up when he came up with lame jokes now. Jim would never forget this sight.

And then all the family members moved at once.

"Poncho!" Judge Stokes exclaimed, embracing his youngest son, careful not to hurt him.

"Cisco," Nick mumbled, hugging his father and then his mother. His brother and sisters and their families crowded around him as he hugged them all.

"Little Sis!" Mark Sidle shouted, pulling his sister into a bear hug. She couldn't help but sob against his shirt.

"Markie," she whispered.

"Warrick!" Tina Brown screamed, running into her husband's outstretched arms. He caught her and spun her around.

"Tina, honey, I missed you so much," he murmured into her long dark hair, holding her so tight as if he were afraid she would disappear.

"Gregory!" Mrs. Sanders screamed and latched onto her son. For once, he didn't protest about being mollycoddled in public, and he hugged her back. His father, waiting to greet his only son, watched the display between mother and child with the familiar bemused expression that his son was known and loved for.

Words, let alone sign language, were not necessary as Mrs. Grissom embraced her only child. And the normally guarded Gil Grissom hugged her tightly back, as though he were a small child again.

"I love you, Mom," he said, facing her so she could read his lips. She reached up and kissed his cheek in response before latching to him again. He was her lifeline.

"Mugs!" Sam Braun cried, pulling his daughter into a tight hug. Catherine found herself sobbing against him.

"Hi, Dad," she said, giving him a watery smile. Tears started streaming down his own face. That was the first time she had ever called him 'dad'.

"Catherine!" Lily Flynn pulled her eldest daughter out of her Sam's arms and into her own, and soon both women were crying hysterically. Lindsey watched on, for once understanding what her mother and grandmother were feeling. Then Catherine's sister had joined in and soon the Braun/Willows family were caught up in a many-armed hug.

Brass, Al, Sofia, and everyone else watched the sight with joy. And then the six castaways broke away from their families and stood in front of their old colleagues.

"I hope we weren't replaced," Catherine ventured looking from familiar face to familiar face.

"You should ask Jim what he thinks of them," Al quipped.

"You wouldn't have liked them," Jim said, grinning, looking particularly at Gil.

"Well, it's a good thing we're back, then," he said back and was the first to move forward and hug his friend. The rest followed suit. Even David Hodges managed to get a hug from each CSI, which was quite an accomplishment. And then, with their arms over each other's shoulders, the six former castaways stood before their families and friends and for a moment, they looked at each other as if deciding something.

"Ecklie!" Gil called to the man standing in the corner. Ecklie walked up to them.

"Grissom," he said curtly, "I don't know what to say."

"Well, you couldn't get rid of us that easily," Greg said before he could stop himself. He looked over at Grissom, waiting for a reprimand. It didn't come.

"If I had known-" Ecklie started, his voice strained.

"Forget it," Grissom said, extending a hand. Ecklie took it. Everyone present knew that this was not the start of some glorious friendship between politically minded Ecklie and the scientific Grissom. It was just a gesture saying that oil and water could coexist peacefully…well…semi-peacefully in this case.

"I'll start the paper work to reinstate you in your old positions, if that's what you want," Ecklie said looking at them. Everyone looked at the six to see what their reaction would be.

"Ecklie?" Catherine asked, looking at him.

"Yes?" he asked, turning to look at her. She and the rest of the group looked at him, smiling in an impish way.

"We want a pay raise!" all six of them shouted at this same time. Ecklie gapped at them. He had been trumped by the nightshift yet again.

With that Grissom's team turned on their heels.

"Let's go," Gil said simply, putting his arm around Catherine's waist. With that, Gil Grissom, Catherine Willows, Warrick Brown, Nick Stokes, Sara Sidle, and Greg Sanders walked out of the airport and into the hot Las Vegas summer day, surrounded by family and friends.

There was no need for Grissom to say 'home' after that last sentence. The six survivors of the storm had been at home all along.

THE END

And that's the end of that. Thank you to everyone who reviewed. I appriciate that. I hope I did all right with this. It has been my pet project. Now I'm moving on to continue 'We Got Married In Vegas'. Look for updates and even some other one-shot fics. Thank you.


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